Desolation
by Sirius7
Summary: What happens to Charlie when his world falls apart? First in the Tempered by Fire Series. COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1

Desolation 

Author: Sirius

Rating: PG-13 for some description of violence and a few words.  If you think it needs to go up or down, let me know.

Disclaimer: If you recognize the characters, they don't belong to me.  The plot, however, is mine (Should I be proud of that?).

Author's Note: I have, unfortunately, missed many, many episodes for various reasons, so some of this will fit with the timeline, and some won't.  Therefore, I should probably class it as an AU.  As I don't recall hearing anything about how old Deanna (nicknamed Deena) Young is, I have made her just shy of 17, and a junior in high school. In this fic, Charlie and Deena do not have living grandparents or an aunt (just to let you know – it's just Charlie and Deena and nobody else in their family – unless I decide to give them a pet).  Also, this is my first published fanfic, so feedback would be good.  I know roughly where I'm heading with this, though some of the details are a little sketchy.  Sit back, enjoy, and tell me what you think.

Timeline: Somewhere between the second election and Bartlet's second inauguration, which means pretty much anything I've actually been able to catch up to now is fair game where spoilers are concerned.

Summary: What happens to Charlie when his world falls apart?  

Warning: There will be mention of violence, and some slightly graphic description.

            This day was no different than any other when one worked three feet from the Oval Office – busy.  Charlie was at his desk, doing his usual job of attempting to maintain his boss's sanity (even this early on a Saturday morning).  It wasn't even nine yet, but he was expecting Deena to call sometime before noon.  He grinned as he remembered his little sister's face last night.  He'd snapped a picture (as his mother would have done, and so he could tease her about it later) of Deena heading out to the Prom with her date.  He knew that several of Deena's friends had planned a slumber party of sorts for after the Prom (_not_ co-ed – Charlie had called and talked to the chaperoning parents; there would be no boys).  He'd also taken care to remind Deena's date – Andrew Yahze – that his boss commanded the 82nd Airborne and if _anything_ happened to his little sister… Andy got the point.  Charlie didn't think he'd really needed to have that chat with him – after all, Andy was a nice guy – but it was the "Big Brother Talk" and mandatory for any and all of Deena's dates.

            Charlie placed the newly-opened envelope on his desk and picked up the ringing phone, thinking that it was a little early for normal people to be awake on a Saturday.  _Of course, this is the West Wing.  _None_ of us are normal.  When was the last time I slept in on a Saturday, anyway? _"Charlie Young."  In response to his unspoken question, he heard the guard at the visitors' desk say that there was someone to see him – a Captain Anthony DiMenna, DCPD.  _Why would Mom's partner come to see me here?_  With a rising sense of unease, Charlie said that he'd be right down.   Debbie looked at him with a raised eyebrow as he left the room, but, thinking he was retrieving something for the President, said nothing.

            *****

"Charlie."  There was no response.  

"Charlie."  Still no response.

President Josiah Bartlet looked at the clock.  _Almost one.  Maybe he's getting lunch.  He probably told me before he left._  He finished off the remains of his own meal and asked Debbie to call Toby into the office.  There was nothing left in the schedule for today… and Toby was a worthy opponent to face across a chess board.  The competitive gleam might have warned Toby off if he'd actually been in the room.

"Oh, Debbie," he added, as she was about to leave, "when Charlie comes back from lunch, let him know that he can take off.  Deena went to her Prom last night, and Charlie had plans to do the "Big Brother Thing" – make sure the date didn't do anything he'll regret."

"Yes, sir," she said.  If he had looked up from his papers, he would have seen the worried look on her face.  That passed in a moment.  _He's pretty certain that Charlie went to lunch – he probably called.  And Charlie _could _have come back in when I was out of the office.  That's probably it.  I'll leave a note on his desk… in case I miss seeing him._  Debbie picked up the phone; if the President wanted to see Toby, he would see Toby.  Charlie would be ok.  _She_ hadn't seen anything yet that really frazzled him, so she was sure he was just off on errands… or getting lunch… he'd be ok.

The phone rang as Jed sat staring at Toby across the chess board.  A smile grew on his face as he remembered the identities of the very few people who knew the direct line to the Oval.  Picking up the phone, he did not hear the "Hey" that he'd been expecting to hear – Abby was in California and had called this morning, but he'd hoped to have her voice whisper over him again.  What he heard instead was Zoey's voice, soft, worried.  "Dad," she said, "this is going to sound weird, but is everything ok there?"

"As far as I know, and with this job, they usually tell me if something's wrong."  She couldn't see the smile on her father's face, but she could hear it in his voice.  Something still drove her to go through the list, whether it was the earlier feeling of dread, or the anguished whisper that had prompted her to make arrangements for the first flight home from France, she didn't know.  She'd told her detail to keep quiet, though.  She didn't want to worry her father until and unless she knew that there was something to worry him about.  Without pause, she continued the conversation.

"You're ok?  Taking care of yourself?"

"Following your mother's orders, for once," he replied.

"And Mom, the family?"

"Abbey's at a conference in California, and Ellie, Elizabeth and Annie are fine."

"Josh and Donna?"

"Aside from selective blindness, they're not having any problems."

Zoey chuckled.  "Meaning that they're still refusing to see what's right in front of them?"

"Yeah."

"CJ, Toby, Sam, Ainsley?"

"All present and accounted for.  Ainsley keeps winning arguments with Sam, CJ enjoys keeping a firm grasp on _her_ Press Corps, and Toby is sitting here being a sore loser.  That's a bad thing when you're playing chess."

"Toby is being Toby.  Got it."  Zoey paused for a second.  There was only one person she hadn't asked about, and she was afraid.  She'd never quite gotten over him, never wanted him to let her go.  The next question she asked was only whispered. 

"Charlie?"

"Should be annoying his little sister.  I sent him home after lunch.  Deena went to the Prom last night, and I thought they'd want to talk."

"Ok."

"Sweetheart, what's bothering you?"

"Nothing much, Dad, it's just… something's wrong.  We'll figure it out when I get there."

"You're coming home?"

"My flight leaves in thirty minutes, Dad.  I just can't shake the feeling that I _need_ to be home right now.  My detail has probably managed to inform Ron somehow… they always do.  And…. There's the First-Class boarding call for my flight, Dad.  I'll be home in ten hours.  Love you."

"Zoey…"  She'd already gone.  He hung up the phone, uneasy, and glanced over at Toby.  "Well, then, shall we finish this?"  The game would be a welcome distraction.

Near the end of the chess game, at five o'clock that evening, Jed took a moment to turn on the closed-circuit television in the office.  Both he and Toby wanted to watch CJ's evening briefing with the Press Corps.  His conversation with Zoey was still weighing heavily on his mind, distancing his thoughts both from the game and the briefing.  He didn't hear the question when it was first asked, but his attention suddenly narrowed to focus on the TV screen as he heard a familiar name.  CJ's face had paled, and he heard her – over the sudden noise of several startled reporters – say, "Could you repeat that, please?"

"Certainly, CJ."  The reporter – Timothy Albrecht, Danny's temporary replacement from the Washington Post while Danny was on vacation – smirked a bit before continuing with the question, and Jed thought to himself that the little pipsqueak had something that would hit them hard in one way or another.  "I was just wondering if the White House had any comment on the murder of Deanna Young late last night – in what appears to be a gang-related shooting – and if it would affect the administration's views on the Juvenile Offenders Bill that the GOP is trying to push through Congress. Of course, Charlie was only informed this morning.  Did he leave without mentioning it to anyone?"  

The look on his face would have made CJ want to slap him if she'd had time to think about it.  Instead, her anger took a back seat as her professionalism started to drive.  At that moment, she had to use nearly every bit of experience she had gained in her career simply to say her next words in a calm manner.  "The White House has no comment at this time, and will have more for you tomorrow.  No more questions tonight."  She walked out of the Press Room and when she was out of sight of the Press Corps… she started to run.

Back in the Oval, a chess piece fell unnoticed from the President's hand.


	2. Chapter 2

Desolation, Part II 

Author's note:  I just realized that, due to the timeframe of this piece, some of you might be wondering why Sam and Ainsley are still being mentioned.  I decided to ignore their leave-taking of the show and keep them in this particular AU.  I will write more cannon pieces later that include Will (the new speech-writer), but for the moment, he is so new, that I'm not certain how to write for him.  Also, I have no geographical knowledge of Washington, DC, so if I mention directions, street names, etc… don't believe them.  Thanks, and happy reviewing.

Disclaimer: Again, if you recognize them, they aren't mine. If they were mine, I wouldn't be writing this, and Charlie would definitely have more screen time.  If you don't recognize them and like the characters (Tony DiMenna, etc.), ask permission, and I might let you play with them.  The plot is belongs to me, and I think I'm proud of it.

Author's note two:  Chapters 2 and 3 will deal primarily with what Charlie was doing on Saturday, before the West Wing staff found out about Deena.  Questions?  Let me know and I'll try to answer them.  All reviews welcome.

**** Saturday – Charlie

9am

Charlie walked down to the visitors' desk, growing more uneasy with every step.  There, standing by the desk, was Tony DiMenna, a man Charlie had seen only rarely since his mother's funeral.  Still, Charlie knew the look on his face.  _Not again.  God, please, not again._

"Charlie…"

"Outside, Tony.  Not here, please."  DiMenna could see that Charlie knew.  He would never get used to seeing that look on anyone's face – and to tell Charlie news like this, for the _second_ time… it was too much.  _There are days when I really _hate_ my job._  

"Alright, outside works."  DiMenna watched as Charlie signed out and then followed him.  The two made their way to DiMenna's unmarked police cruiser, but didn't get in.  Charlie's next words were whispered so softly that the officer could barely hear them.

"Is it too much to hope that she's just hurt?"  Charlie knew better; he didn't need to see the officer shake his head, but he looked anyway.  Both of them knew, but neither could manage to say the words that would make it real.  Deena was dead.  

Charlie was shivering in the chill November air, having left everything of value except his wallet and White House ID inside.  He didn't even notice.  "When?  How?  This morning?  What about the other girls?"

The police captain couldn't think of anything to comfort Charlie, but he _could_ answer the questions.  "Early this morning, I'll tell you how later, and there weren't any other girls.  Just Deena and a teenage boy in a tux.  We haven't identified him yet."  

"Andy Yahze.  Her date for the Prom.  Where…  she was supposed to be at a party after the Prom.  A bunch of her friends… girls.  I…" DiMenna could see Charlie shaking off the sense of shock, pushing it to the back of his mind, to be dealt with later.  It was a dangerous habit to get in to, but right now, Tony needed Charlie to be able to think clearly, and he could do that better if he wasn't thinking about what had happened to Deena.

"Charlie, get in the car before you freeze.  We'll go down to the precinct, sit in the office for a bit.  You can let me know how to get in touch with Andy's parents, and I'll fill you in on what happened last night."  _And I'm not about to say the rest of it in the White House parking lot._  

Charlie nodded, bit-by-bit sealing off that part of him that wanted nothing more than to sink to ground and mourn the loss of the only family he'd had left.  He slipped into the car, and they drove through the gates.  

Half an hour later, in the station house that Charlie had thought he would never see again, they sat in a small office – silent, because, for all his years of experience, Tony had never seen something like this happen to someone he actually knew.  Charlie's grief was walled away in the back of his mind, and for the moment, that allowed him to think.  He had already given the captain the contact information for Andy's parents, but neither of the men was particularly eager to bring up the next topic.  They both knew that someone had to do it, and it was Charlie's voice that broke the almost morbid quiet.

"Why wasn't I informed earlier?"  Tony looked at him, quizzically.  Charlie responded, "You said that it happened early this morning.  Why wasn't I informed earlier?  When were they found?"

"They were found around four a.m., sitting in what I presume is Andy's car, stopped on a side street about two miles from your place.  The plates were missing and there was no ID with them.  No one knew who Deena was until I came in for my shift and looked over the new cases."

"She was supposed to be going to a party.  So, why does it look like she was coming home?"

"Maybe," and Tony said this cautiously, "they wanted a little time together…"

"No," Charlie replied.  "Deena knew that I would be home.  I called Andy's cell at 1am just to let them know that I was getting off work and Deena could reach me at the apartment if she needed.  Besides, I gave Andy the Big Brother Talk.  Somehow, it's more impressive when your boss is the leader of the Free World."

Even in the midst of this mess, Tony could appreciate humor – and apparently some part of Charlie could still dish it out.  One corner of his mouth turned up slightly, in what would have been a grin under other circumstances.  He still hadn't told Charlie the worst.

"Tony?"

"Yeah, Charlie."

"Didn't anybody on the night shift run her prints?  She's had dinner at the Residence; she was vetted shortly after I started working in the West Wing.  Her prints should have been on file."

"Good question; let me check the case."  Charlie flinched at the cold wording.  His sister was a statistic now.  _Can't think about that yet._  "They should have, but if they had, you would have known before I did."  Tony looked.  _Who was in charge of this case when it was first brought in?  Both the kids should have been printed.  He was… she wasn't.  And, naturally, his prints weren't on record.  Who the _hell _fucked this up?_

"Tony, I need to see her."

_The one thing I hoped he wouldn't say._  "You don't want to do that, Charlie.  It's… it's not pretty."

"I need to see her, Tony… and you still haven't told me what happened."

"You don't need to see her, Charlie.  I already ID'ed…" Tony tried once more to dissuade him, but Charlie's words cut off his own.

"Tony… I _need_ to see her.  It won't be real, otherwise."

The older man sighed, locking his blue eyes with Charlie's brown ones, and running a hand through his thinning, dark hair.  "Alright, let's go."  He paused for a second.  "Charlie… it's not pretty."

_`It's not pretty.'  He couldn't have given me a little more warning than `It's not pretty?'  Deena.  _Charlie could barely catch his breath as his back hit the nearest wall, and he slid to sit on the floor.  There was only one person he wanted right now, one person who could make it all go away for a little while.  Charlie knew that if she were here, they'd go after her next.  _I don't know how I can get through this.  I'm not strong enough to lose _her, _too._  _She's safer in France.  She has to stay away from me.  They all have to stay away from me.  Zoey…_

At the same time that a worried police captain tried to reach his best friend's son, a young woman halfway around the world listened to the anguished whisper that reached her… and knew that she had to go home.  


	3. Chapter 3

Desolation, Part III 

Disclaimer: If you recognize them, they aren't mine.  If you feel like borrowing Tony, Ben Kaersi, Cassie or Angela, just ask.

Author's Note: Part 4 will see us back in the West Wing, but Part 3 picks up where Part 2 left off – Charlie.  All mistakes are mine.  I've proofread, but may have missed a few.  Enjoy, and please review.

It was almost noon before Charlie left Captain DiMenna's office, knowing all that Tony had seen fit to tell him about Deena's murder.  He was dazed and Tony had wanted to drive him home, but Charlie had refused, citing the need to clear his head, and walked to the neighborhood park.

He sat on a park bench, shivering slightly, but didn't consciously notice the chilled air.  He didn't notice much of _anything._  His body may have been in the park, but his mind was still in that morgue, hearing again the words that Tony hadn't wanted to say.

"We haven't figured out why the car was parked where it was, but neither of them were killed in the vehicle."  Charlie barely heard the police captain.  His eyes were on Deena's face – the beginnings of bruises that showed where fists had hit her face, the broken jaw.  Cracked ribs, entry and exit wounds from a 9mm handgun in several places.

_"The official cause of death is a gunshot wound to the head," Tony explained, "but our night-shift coroner reported that any number of the shots were in critical areas."_

_"Was she…?"_

_"Yeah, Charlie.  Yeah… that first, before the…"_

_"Execution, Tony.  Say it.  This was planned.  What aren't you telling me?"_

_He couldn't say the words, and moved the sheet a little so that Charlie could see Deena's arm.  There, carved into his little sister's skin, was a jagged swastika, and the words "Better dead than black."_

_His breath had caught in his throat, then, and he had to close his eyes.  This was when he'd stumbled against the wall.  This was when he'd wanted Zoey._

_Tony's voice called Charlie back from his thoughts, and the older man had escorted the younger one back to his office.  Tony paced, looking like he was going to lose his temper – violently – for the first time in years.  Charlie sat in an office chair, head in his hands, shaking, and fought for what little control he still had.  After a while, the breaths came easier and the knot in his stomach loosened.  _I will not think of Deena in there.  Later… I'll do it later, but not now.  And Tony – oh, God – Tony isn't done yet.  _"What aren't you telling me, Tony?  There's more, isn't there?"_

_DiMenna stopped pacing, closed the blinds on his office windows, and sat next to Charlie.  "That message that you saw… it wasn't the only one.  Her killers left another, on her stomach."  He paused, taking a deep breath.  "Charlie, you need to have someone stay with you when you go home, alright?"_

_"Tony."  The captain had never heard that tone in Charlie's voice before – mixed shock and rage shoved so far down, he wasn't sure that Charlie even knew it was there.  For some reason, it scared him, and when Charlie spoke again, he gave the full answer.  "Tell me what the _hell_ they did to my sister.  What `message' did they think was so important that it needed to be delivered with what was left of her?"_

_Tony didn't even need to look at the case file for this.  He'd seen it himself, and he would never be able to make the image go away.  "`Boys need to remember their place.  The sister, then her, and then you, Charlie.  Watch it fall apart.'"  The message wouldn't be clear to Charlie until later, and he showed little reaction to it now._

My sister was killed because of me.  My baby sister was _killed_ because of me.  _He took the knowledge that Tony had just given him, and pushed it back into the same corner of his mind that housed everything that Tony had told him today.  When he looked up at Tony, his eyes and thoughts were clear.  It hadn't really hit him yet.  _

_"Did it look like Deena struggled, Tony, or did they tie her up and beat her for the hell of it?"_

_"She struggled, Charlie.  She definitely struggled."_

_"Then someone should check the hospitals for people who came in with broken bones last night, who looked like they had been in a fight.  She was trained, Tony."_

_"Trained how?_

_"Mixed bag martial arts, with a focus on karate.  Her sensei is in the Service – Cassandra Reinholdt.  After Rosslyn…" Charlie paused and checked Tony's face.  He nodded.  That was one night that he wouldn't forget.  He had stayed in front of the TV for hours waiting for the latest word.  Charlie continued, "After Rosslyn, when I found out that my relationship with Zoey was why they'd been shooting at us, I was afraid for Deena.  Captain Rickarts had taught us a few things before he retired, but it wasn't enough.  I went to Ron Butterfield, the President's AIC… Agent-in-Charge."  He had to explain the abbreviation to Tony, his mind briefly wandering into the realm of "You know you work in the West Wing when…" before he snapped back to the issue at hand._

_"Anyway, I asked Ron if he had any suggestions in the way of teachers for Deena… and me.  He recommended Cass for her, an agent who had stepped down from fieldwork and held an Instructor position.  She came in when everyone else felt the need for some advanced hand-to-hand training… or refresher courses.  She still does.  Ron said something about the job being difficult for anyone with kids, and mentioned that since she spent a lot of her time working with the Kick Drugs program, she'd know how to deal with…"_

_"Teenagers?"_

_"Civilians.  Deena was good, Tony.  If she put up a fight, there is no way that they – he? - could have gotten away without some serious injuries."_

_Tony heard the question, and answered it for Charlie.  "There was definitely more than one, Charlie.  We just haven't managed to figure out how many more."  He paused.  "You said that you spoke to the agent about training for Deena _and yourself_.  Did Reinholdt teach you, too?"_

_"No.  Ron talked his former teacher into taking me on as a student – when I'm not running around the country, doing my job.  My sensei is a seventy-something retired Navy Seal who worked his way through the ranks until he hit Admiral.  He can still kick ass – very, very well.  He doesn't look anywhere near his age, either."_

_"What's his name?"_

_"Kaersi, Benjamin Kaersi."_

_"C-A-I-R-S-H?"_

_"K-A-E-R-S-I, but it's pronounced like you spelled it."_

_Charlie's eyes had drifted to the floor, and he couldn't see Tony jotting down notes, but he heard the pen scratching across the paper, the shouts in the bullpen, the clink of handcuffs and the ringing phones outside the office.  He kept his head in his hands._

"Mister.  Hey, mister."  Charlie's head snapped up and his eyes met those of the little girl in front of him.  "Are you alright, mister?  You look kinda sad."

His voice was gentle as he replied, "Well, I am kinda sad.  See, I'm remembering my sister, who, a long time ago, was a lot like you.  I miss her."

"Where did she go?"

Charlie struggled against the tears in his eyes.  _How do I explain this to someone so young?  Where's her mother, anyway?_

"Well, not too long ago, some people hurt her… so bad that she can never come home.  She's…" Not sure what to say now, Charlie's eyes looked at the winter sky.

"She's an angel, isn't she?" 

Charlie nodded.  "Yeah… she's an angel."

The little girl stepped up to him and wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly.  "I have a sister who's an angel, too.  She saved me when I was little."

In the distance, Charlie heard someone repeating a name.  "Angela!  Angela, where'd you go?"

"That you?" he asked the girl.

"Yep, that's me… should probably get back to my mom.  Bye, Charlie."  Angela released him and raced off to the other side of the park before Charlie had time to wonder how she knew his name.  

Thoughts of the little one were pushed away as Charlie looked at his watch… and realized that he had been lost in the memory far longer than he'd thought.  It was nearly 3pm already, and he had things to do.  Charlie pushed the memory of the morgue to the same corner of his mind that held everything else he'd seen today and tried to build a wall around it; he'd deal with it later.  After his hands had stopped shaking, he moved across the street to a payphone and called for a taxi.  He had a funeral to plan – again.

It took another three hours to get through the details with the funeral director, working out everything except when and where the funeral would be.  Charlie would call the Reverend after he was informed as to what date the morgue would release his sister's body.  So… the timing had to wait, but everything else… he could do that now.  He had to; there wasn't anyone else.  He arranged to have Deena buried next to their mother, morbidly wondering if he shouldn't just buy a plot for himself while he was at it.  Then, he shook off the thought, finalized the plans and left, not bothering to answer the cell phone clipped to his belt – which, while in vibrate mode, had been ringing almost constantly for the past hour.

Stopping by a gas station a short walk later, Charlie bought a small tablet of writing paper, a pen and a few envelopes, a plan already forming in his mind.  There was only one thing he could do now to keep his friends safe.  He walked a few more blocks to the nearest library branch, walked inside and found a desk.  Sitting, he removed one of the envelopes from the grocery bag and on it, wrote two simple words: "President Bartlet."


	4. Chapter 4

Desolation, Part IV 

Author: Sirius

Disclaimer: See Part I

Author's Note: This part is shorter than intended, as Real Life has conspired to interfere with my writing, but I will be continuing this and should have Part V up soon, which will continue right where this one leaves off.  As always, feedback is welcome.  

Saturday – Immediately after the evening briefing – about 5:15pm – West Wing

"Debbie!"  The President's shout carried clearly through the doors separating the Oval from the outer office.  Debbie, hearing the urgency behind it, put down her work and hurried in, a worried CJ only a few steps behind.  Toby, watching the scene playing out before him with great intensity, picked up the chess piece that had dropped to the floor – the black knight.  With deliberate care, he placed the piece in its previous position on the board.

"How did we not know about this?"  The tone of CJ's voice hinted at both concern and an oncoming rant.  "Where's Charlie?"

"That's what I'd like to know."  The President sighed, turning his eyes to his secretary.  "Debbie, page the senior staff – Donna and Ainsley, as well.  I want everyone in the office who might know where Charlie is if we can't find him.  Call him, page him, I don't care how, but get him back here.  Check with the switchboard and the front desk; find out who told him."

"Yes, sir," she replied, "but I get the feeling that I've missed something."

"That jackass of a stand-in from the Post hit me with something in the briefing," CJ replied.  "Apparently, Charlie's sister was murdered sometime last night or this morning.  He said it was gang-related."

Bartlet shook his head as Debbie – white-faced – went to do her job.  "Charlie wouldn't let Deena anywhere near someone who was in or otherwise involved with a gang.  You all know that.  It's possible she got caught in the crossfire, but there aren't any gangs in Charlie's neighborhood.  What I'd _like_ to know is what the _hell_ is going on.  I'm calling Abbey.  She'd want to be here."

He paced while Debbie made the calls, and CJ wasn't much better.  Toby contemplated the black knight on the chessboard.  _What's going through your head, Charlie?  Why didn't you tell us what was going on?_  Toby's mind drifted back to that chaotic night in the waiting room at GW – Charlie, standing with the rest of them, waiting for word on Josh and the President.  Charlie, offering quiet support to Donna as she stood there waiting for some word on the fate of the man that she loved – even if she still didn't know it.  He remembered Charlie refusing the offer of immunity.  _"I stick with my team," he said.  Yeah, Charlie, you stick with your team.  This time, let _us_ stick with _you.  _Answer the phone when Debbie calls.  Pick up the phone, haul ass to get back here, and we'll get through this together.  _Toby said nothing, but the memories ran through his head throughout the entire half hour that it took for the rest of the Senior Staff to make their way back to the West Wing.

The senior staff, Donna and Ainsley had all taken seats in the Oval Office when Debbie walked in with that morning's visitor log, already having looked it over.  "There was a police captain here shortly after nine o'clock this morning, sir.  His name is Anthony DiMenna.  That would be around the last time that I saw Charlie.  I didn't think anything of it because I thought he was running errands for you, sir.  I'm sorry."

Bartlet sighed.  "It's not your fault, Debbie.  Charlie doesn't often talk about family problems, but it makes sense that Marissa Young's former partner would be the one to tell him."

"Sir," Leo interrupted.  "Pardon me for being blunt, but what the hell's going on, and what does it have to do with Charlie?" 

Quietly, rage visible in his eyes, the President informed the Senior Staff of the events of the day, gaining an instant reaction from all save Toby and CJ, as they already knew.  "Debbie's been trying to get a hold of Charlie since the second she finished calling of you in.  She would have told me if she'd reached him, so for the moment, I'm presuming that he turned off his cell or just isn't answering.  She called the building superintendent, as well.  If Charlie's home, he's not letting anyone know it.  I want suggestions on where he might be, I want him found and I want him here."

"Police station?" Josh suggested.  

"Not likely he'd stay there for this long," Leo responded, "but I'll call.  Sir, you said his mother's partner told him?"

"He's the only one who could have – Captain Anthony DiMenna.  I think Charlie mentioned something about him being with the 83rd precinct, but it's been awhile since he's mentioned his mother."

Leo headed to his office to make the call.  Most of the Senior Staff were still in varying degrees of shock, and Ron – always near his protectee – was silently and unobtrusively observing everything.  "Mr. President," he said.  Though he spoke softly, everyone heard him.  His presence was familiar to them all, but Ron Butterfield's voice – more often than not – produced an instinctive feeling of alarm, as it was rarely directed toward his protectee in the presence of others… save in a crisis situation.  Ron noted the alarm spreading through the room, and spoke quickly.  "If Charlie isn't at the precinct, there's a possibility that he might be with his teacher.  I could call the Admiral, if you'd like me to check?"

The President look confused, and shot Ron a chilled look that spoke volumes.  _Explain._

Ron almost smiled.  "Charlie didn't tell you, did he?  He came to me shortly after Rosslyn, asking for recommendations on a suitable self-defense instructor for his younger sister… one for himself, as well.  They'd apparently both had some basic training with Detective Young's former captain, but Charlie wanted to make sure his sister could take care of herself.  Reinholdt's been teaching her ever since, but I took Charlie to meet up with Admiral Kaersi – my former instructor.  For all that he's retired, sir, I still wouldn't want to get on his shit list.  He's talented where… anger management… is concerned, Mr. President, and I thought perhaps Charlie would go to his place if he felt the need to … well... punch things."

"Call him, Ron.  In the meantime, does anyone else have any ideas?"

"Cemetery?" Toby suggested.

"Church?"  This came from Ainsley.

"Washington Monument, maybe."  Donna's suggestion overlapped the muffled words coming out of Ron's mouth.  He hung up just as Donna finished speaking, and shook his head.  Charlie wasn't there.

Leo walked back into the room.  "I've got DiMenna on hold.  I figured this would be easier if I just transferred him over here and put him on speaker."


	5. Chapter 5

Desolation, Part V 

Author: Sirius

Disclaimer: See Part I

Author's Note: This picks up right where Part IV left off, and don't worry… there will be more.  Also, I know next to nothing about police procedure, so I hope I'm not messing it up too much.  As always, feedback is welcome.  

In seconds, the captain's voice was audible to the entire room.  Leo made a quick introduction of sorts, having everyone speak as he introduced him or her, so that DiMenna would know precisely who was on the other end of the line.

"Captain."  Bartlet spoke first.  "Tell us what you know.  None of us have seen Charlie since you came into the building a little after nine this morning, and he's not answering his phone.  I want to know what happened, and I want to know _now_.  The latest word we've had on this is that it was gang-related."

"All due respect, Mr. President," Tony responded.  "Where did you hear that?  Deena's death had nothing to do with area gangs.  That's one of the few things that we're _certain_ of at this point."

"Go through it step by step for us, please, Captain, if you would.  Tell us exactly what you told Charlie, but first, do you have any idea where he might be?"

"Unfortunately, no.  The last time I saw Charlie was just before noon today.  I offered to give him a lift home or back to work to get his car, but he said he needed to walk for a bit and clear his head."

"What happened, Captain?"

"Sir, from what I've been able to get together, it looks as though Deena and her date left for the Prom around 7:30pm last night, went to the dance, had a good time.  Charlie called the date's cell phone at 1am, just to let the two of them know that he was heading home.  The date had planned to drop Deena off at a friend's house for a "girls only" post-Prom party, but when the car was found, it was only a couple miles away from Charlie's place, so it looks like they were actually headed back to the apartment.  Maybe Deena wasn't feeling well or didn't want a party.  We don't know."

"Anyway," he continued, "the car was found at 4:12am by a black-and-white on a routine patrol.  There were no plates on the car and no ID on the kids.  The two cops called it in, the scene was secured… standard at that point, really."

Toby heard something in that last statement that he didn't like.  "_At that point,_ Captain?  At what point was it _not_ standard?"

"There's not much that I can pinpoint for you, Mr. Ziegler, aside from the fact that Deena should have been fingerprinted along with her date.  He was, but she wasn't.  More than likely, it was just the end result of timing mixed with a long shift for our night coroner and the investigating officer, but I'm checking it out anyway.  I don't want to take the chance that anything might be slipping through the cracks on this."

"Your dedication is commendable, Captain," Leo said as he glanced around the room at the other members of the Senior Staff.  "Why are you so determined to double-check all the details on this case personally, when you're responsible for the oversight of all the Homicide cases in the precinct?  You can't possibly have enough off-time to completely devote yourself to this case without running yourself into the ground.  Something has you on edge about this, Captain DiMenna, and I'd like to know what it is."

"Mr. McGarry, Marissa Young was my partner and my friend; I watched her die, gave the news to her son, and just today had to tell that same son that his younger sister was killed in a manner that will mean I am _never _getting another sound night's sleep.  I will pursue this case until the day I die if I have to.  _This entire situation_ is what has me on edge, Mr. McGarry, and Deena's _death_ is only part of it.  They didn't kill her quickly, and after they had, they left a _sick_ little message for Charlie.  This was personal.  _That_ is also bothering me a great deal.  Take your pick of what's making me edgy."

"Message?  What message?"

"It wasn't pretty, Mr. Lyman.  The message made it sickeningly clear that they killed Deena to get to Charlie… said that he should remember his "place," that Deena was the first and that Charlie would watch his world fall apart."

"Oh, God," Donna whispered, remembering how much Charlie had already been through, the overwhelming and undeserved guilt that he had carried after Rosslyn.  She spoke so softly that only Josh and Sam, sitting one on each side, heard her.  "I hope he doesn't do anything…"

"Yeah."

"Yeah."

Silence fell over the room for a moment, before President Bartlet spoke again.  "Please keep me updated, Captain.  We're going to try and find Charlie from our end."

"Wait, sir," Ron interrupted, before Tony or Bartlet could hang up.  "Captain, you said that there was no ID with either Deena or her date, correct?"

"Correct."

"Did Deena have her keys?"

"I'm not sure.  Let me check the list of personal effects.  No, no cash, no purse, no keys on him or her."

"_Shit_."

"Ron?"  The President watched in amazement as Ron ordered two agents to go to Charlie's apartment.  If he showed up, they were not to let him in the apartment _under any circumstances._

"Ron, what the hell?"

"My apologies, sir, Captain," he responded.  "But Deena's murderers have her keys, and, as this was planned and personal, I don't feel that it's too much of a leap to think that they have Charlie's address, as well, and probably had it _before_ they took Deena's ID.  If he goes back to the apartment with no warning of what could be waiting for him, he could very well be walking into a deathtrap."


	6. Chapter 6

Desolation, Part VI 

Author: Sirius

Author's Note: This part gets rocky.  If you're not sure that you can stand people (i.e., Charlie) going through emotional torment, you might want to turn back now.  Also, be aware that there are themes in this story that are not necessarily suitable for younger children.  If you think the rating should be higher than PG-13, please let me know.

Disclaimer: See Part I.

Nothing was said in the room for several seconds.  Then, the Senior Staff heard DiMenna put out an APB on Charlie, specifying that he was _not_ a suspect in any crime, but was being threatened and could be in grave danger.  "Bring him back to the station if you find him," he said, "but remember that we're protecting him, _not_ arresting him."

"Captain."  Again, Ron spoke out, astonishing everyone in the Oval, most of whom hadn't heard him say as much in the past year as he had in the last few minutes.  "Have your men call us, instead of approaching Charlie, unless he looks to be injured."

"Why?"

"If they approach him and he doesn't want to go with them, they won't be able to make him and you might end up with a couple of _injured _officers.  As of this moment, there are very few people in DC who could match Charlie's skill, outside of the Secret Service and Special Forces."

"Charlie?  He's that good?"

"Admiral Kaersi has a rule, Captain.  He doesn't train civilians.  I knew about his rule, and still took Charlie to meet him, expecting to be turned down.  I couldn't even begin to tell you why Kaersi agreed to it.  The fact remains that Charlie is the _only exception, and yes, he _is_ that good.  If your officers try to force him to come with them – in his current state of mind – there could very easily be serious trouble.  Charlie's trying to protect the only family he has left… by staying as far away from us as possible."  Ron looked around the Oval, listening to DiMenna change his orders to "notify, but do not approach."  His eyes rested first on Josh Lyman's pale, agonized face, then moved on to Donna Moss – angry and supportive – who, unknowingly, had a death-grip on Josh's hand._

Bartlet said his good-byes to DiMenna as Ron continued to scan the room.  Sam Seaborn, on Donna's other side, looked as though any remaining naiveté had just plummeted – burning – to the ground.  Ainsley and Debbie looked to be in a state of shock, and the rest… the rest of the staff – CJ, Toby, Leo and Bartlet – all had looks on their faces to mirror the one on Donna's… anger.  In the case of Leo and the President, that anger was turning into a deep, smoldering rage.  This would not make Ron's job any easier, but he could certainly understand where they were all coming from.  

"All right, the DC cops are looking for him.  Debbie, you're going to keep calling him while we all hope that he picks up.  I want to go looking, but Ron would veto that and Charlie would see me coming a mile away.  Donna, you, Sam, Ainsley and Josh look anywhere that you can think of, call if you find him, and be back here by nine.  Toby, CJ, Leo, I'll need your help.  We have to say something to the press tomorrow, and I'd like to know what that is before we actually go on the air with it.  Oh, and Leo, if you wouldn't mind, could you head to National around 2:30?  Zoey's plane should be coming in then, and I'd like her to be met by someone she knows.  I don't know if she's bringing _him_ or not."

"Not, sir." Ron answered quietly.

"Thank you, Ron.  Dismissed, everyone.  If you've got any prayers, I would suggest saying them.  Charlie's gonna need all the help he can get."

"Yes, sir."

"Thank you, Mr. President."

The small chorus of answering phrases echoed through the room, and when the searchers had left, the Oval held only four people – Toby, CJ, Leo, and the President.  There were five if one counted Ron – motioned by Bartlet to stay _in_ the office, rather than nearby – but he was blending into the woodwork again, as usual.  

"So, CJ, what do we tell them?"

Saturday – 9:30pm – West Wing

The guard in the lobby had been on break when he'd come in fifteen minutes ago, and Charlie hadn't recognized either the person covering the desk or the nearby Service Agent, which meant that both had probably been assigned to the White House only recently.  Charlie heard voices in the Oval – though he couldn't tell what they were saying – and walked quietly to Debbie's desk, placing there a sealed envelope addressed to the President… and his White House ID.  None of them would be safe if he stayed.  Then, he went to his own desk to retrieve his coat and keys.  Lying on the desk was the open envelope from that morning, and, as it was addressed to him, he picked it up.  Slipping the contents out just far enough to reveal that they were nothing official, he slipped it into his coat pocket.  He'd deal with it later.

A few short moments after Charlie had quietly and swiftly left the outer office, Debbie exited the Oval and went to gather her things from her desk.  They were still looking for Charlie, but the President had told her to go home and relax.  _Charlie can't go too far, can he?  His car's still in the lot.  As she sorted through her things, she noticed two new items on her desk.  Recognizing what they were, she immediately took them and walked back into the Oval._

"Sir."

"I thought I told you to get out of here while you still could, Debbie."

"Charlie's been in the building, sir.  These were on my desk and his coat's gone."

The President's reaction was instantaneous.  "Ron, find him.  I don't want him alone tonight, and if that letter's what I think it is, Hell would have to freeze over before I'd accept it."

Ron nodded and quietly alerted all security personnel to prevent Charlie from leaving the grounds – preferably without physical confrontation.  Meanwhile, Josh quickly walked to an alternate exit, hoping to get to Charlie's car before he did.  When he got there, Charlie was already in the car, but hadn't yet started it.

"Charlie!"  The younger man's head snapped up, and the look in his eyes stole Josh's breath.

_God, this is _torture _for him.  Charlie's face defied description – rage, anguish, determination and terror vying for dominance – and he seemed to age years before Josh's eyes.  Then, a mask slid over Charlie's face, making him cold, withdrawn.  Josh shivered; this was not a Charlie he knew._

"Charlie, man, you need to stop for a minute."

"Not an option, Josh.  I can't stay here; don't you get that?  I _will not bring this insanity into the President's House.  I refuse.  Enough people have already died.  Zoey's safe enough – she's in France – but I have no intention of risking __him along with everyone else."_

_Shit,_ Josh thought.  _Charlie doesn't realize that Zoey's on a plane back here right now.  Oh, boy_.

"Charlie," he said, "you need to listen to me.  If you try to drive out that gate, you _will _be stopped.  He's not going to let you spend this time alone, man."

"Damn it, Josh, he's already been shot once because I love Zoey; so have you.  I'm not risking anyone else.  If they want me, they can come after me… the mood I'm in now, I might actually appreciate a fight."

"Self-destructive urges are not an option, Charlie."  Bartlet's voiced boomed out from behind Josh, but the Deputy Chief of Staff didn't turn around.  _Charlie was his focus right now; he knew the President would understand.  _

Charlie closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath.  "I _cannot_ put you in danger, sir.  Please, don't ask that."

"Charlie, get out of the car.  Just get out and _talk to me."_

Jaw clenched and hands shaking, Charlie opened the driver's side door, deliberately taking slow breaths.  He couldn't lose it now.  He had to get out of there; he couldn't let his family stay in the line of fire.  He stepped out of the car, but stood outside the nearest circle of light provided by the lamps in the parking lot.  Bartlet couldn't see the sickly pale cast of his aide's face, but he could hear the barely concealed strain in his voice.  

"Come inside, Charlie."

"I can't do that, sir.  If you aren't already a target, you will be soon.  I have to distance myself from you… from everyone here."  _From my family, he thought.  The images of the day rushed through his mind, sneaking through the cracks in the wall he had built.  Charlie stumbled… and Bartlet caught him.  With Josh's help, they walked him into the West Wing, Ron shutting and locking Charlie's car door as they turned away._

They had just stepped inside the entrance when Charlie spoke, his voice no more than a harsh, anguished whisper.  "They raped her, sir.  They beat her, they raped her, they killed her, and they carved a message in her _skin for me."  Charlie let out a shocked half-laugh.  "Or maybe they carved the message before they killed her; Tony didn't know.  They killed her because of me.  She was my little sister – I had to protect her – and they __killed her because of me."_

Bartlet, not having known the extent of the violence, didn't know what to say.  He held tighter to Charlie, eyes burning with tears and anger.  _I can't let them do this, he thought.  _ Those sorry SOBs are trying to destroy _my son, _and I'm not going to let them succeed._  His eyes met those of his companions – first Josh on Charlie's other side, and then Ron in back of them.  Someone would pay for this._


	7. Chapter 7

Desolation, Part VII 

Author: Sirius

Dislaimer: See Part I

Author's Note: As always, reviews are welcome

Chapter summary:  As the story unfolds, it becomes clear that Ron Butterfield knew more than anyone thought.

Abbey, having arrived a few short minutes before the confrontation in the parking lot, met the group just outside the doors to the Residence.  Charlie didn't even notice when his two supporters set him on the couch.  Ron's voice murmuring in the background offered quiet testimony to the fact that he was telling Security to stand down, that Charlie had been located.  

"Abbey, have someone call the rest of the Staff and tell them Charlie's been found.  They can stay here or they can go home and get some rest, but they should know that he's here."  Abbey nodded, worried eyes locked on Charlie, knowing that Deena was gone but not yet aware of the details.

Charlie was shaking… endlessly, quietly shaking, desperately trying to rebuild that wall.  _Need to think.  Have to get out of here; have to protect them.  Had to protect Deena, but Deena's gone now.  Zoey. _ Can't be anywhere near Zoey, but Zoey's in France, so that's good.  _He didn't notice Bartlet sharing worried glances with Josh, didn't see the eyes resting on his too pale face, didn't feel the arms around him – the arms that belonged to the only real father he'd ever had.  The other one hadn't been around much – jackass.  _Think, Charlie.  Just stop and think for a minute.  _NO!  Charlie argued with himself, back and forth. _I don't want to remember Deena like that. _His brain whispered the words again, over and over, endlessly; it wouldn't stop.  _The sister, then her, and then you, Charlie.  Sister, then HER, and then you, Charlie.  __

"Ron."  Charlie's voice, hoarse and strained nearly to breaking, drew everyone's attention, but the only person he noticed was the lanky Service Agent.  "They'll be after Zoey next.  They don't know we broke up.  I get her to go to France and she's still not safe.  They'll come after her as soon as she sets foot in this country, and there's no way that pansy-ass boyfriend would try to protect her if it meant his own skin."  

Bartlet's gaze went ice cold as he looked at his Security Chief.  Charlie had lapsed back into silence by the time the President spoke.  "Ron," he said, "what haven't you been telling me?"

Ron didn't answer him immediately, but came instead to stand before Charlie and place a hand on the younger man's shoulder.  Charlie looked up at him, and the look they shared was one of brothers, two warriors fighting for one cause.  Charlie saw a question in the agent's face, but couldn't speak… not at first.  He nodded, and then said – slowly, "Tell him all of it.  There's no need to keep it from him now – no depositions, no re-election campaign.  We've still got the inauguration to worry about, but what the hell."

Ron nodded, walked to the door and leaned out enough to speak to his nearest subordinate.  "Eagle wants to know what's up with Knight.  Bring me a copy of the file."

_Obviously, Ron knows a lot more about this than he's been telling anyone, and so do the rest of the agents, if they automatically know which file Ron wants.  _In Josh's mind, that couldn't be good.  What the hell had Charlie been keeping from them… and why?

The agent moved once more to stand before Charlie – once again oblivious even to Bartlet's arms supporting him – and, with the President's permission, took a seat in the chair directly across from the three.  He had not yet started speaking when Leo and the remainder of the staff silently entered the room.

"Now would be a good time to fill us in, Ron.  Whenever this mess started would have been better."  Butterfield acknowledged the reprimand with a nod and began to speak.

"Everyone here is aware that Charlie began to receive hate mail here shortly after the first publicized photo that had him standing next to you, sir.  The frequency of such letters increased when it became known that he was dating your daughter.  Per SOP, we investigated the mail, recorded anything we could find, but even after Rosslyn, the only letters there were standard – they said a lot, but didn't plan to do anything.  West Virginia White Pride never actually sent him hate mail; they chose to act, instead.  Shortly before the depositions, Charlie began to get new letters – letters that showed in-depth knowledge of the planning that went into the Rosslyn attack.  Most of the previous mail had only threatened physical harm to Charlie himself.  These newer letters also targeted Zoey and Deanna."  Ron paused for a moment.

"Charlie was worried about you, sir; he believed that you had enough to deal with and didn't want this placed on your plate, as well.  Charlie made sure that Deanna's lessons were more frequent than they had been, and Zoey's detail was increased – without her knowledge.  He made a valid point that knowing about the extra agent might well "freak her out," and I went with it.  A month before Zoey's graduation, Charlie started getting the letters at home… and they had art.  Each of these letters had pictures – Charlie in public, running errands, entering his apartment, or Zoey heading into her dorm room, to or from classes, visiting Charlie.  He knew as well as I did that people were watching Zoey, that if they could get close enough to take pictures without anyone knowing they were there…"

"They would be close enough to fire a gun without anyone knowing they were there."  Josh finished Butterfield's sentence as Donna moved to stand behind the couch, putting one hand on Josh's shoulder and one on Charlie's.  

"Exactly.  I don't know exactly what happened between Charlie and Zoey after that, but I am aware that he spent more time in the office and she didn't come by as often, that they rarely spoke to one another, and I was soon informed that she had every intention of making a post-graduation trip to France."

"He pushed her away."  Abbey spoke from where she stood – to her husband's other side.  "He pushed her away so that she would distance herself from the danger.  And what could provide more distance than an ocean?"  Ron nodded.

"Right now, he needs her," Ron said.  "But he would and will sacrifice everything to keep her safe.  We had several long talks when he became aware that she was coming back for the holidays – and he had more than a few sparring sessions with the younger agents after every talk with her new interest."  Ron's face slipped from its detached mask into a distinct scowl.  "Jean-Paul was baiting him, and is damned lucky Charlie didn't rise to it.  Something would have been broken if he had."

Charlie heard none of this, lost in the images of a very long day, shivering with reaction and heading into shock.  Bartlet looked at Abbey with a plea in his eyes and she, with Toby's help, maneuvered Charlie off the couch and set about getting him to a guest room.

Once Charlie was out of hearing range, Josh spoke.  "Charlie doesn't know that Zoey's on a plane back here right now, and Zoey has no idea what's happened,"

"She might," Bartlet responded.  Everyone looked at him, confused.  "Zoey called this afternoon, while Toby and I were engaged in a game of chess, and asked if everyone was alright.  She said that she had a feeling that something was wrong and that she was headed back home.  The boarding call was announced before I had a chance to figure out what exactly was going on."

"Her detail doesn't even know the full story, sir," Ron commented.  "They just know that around 10-10:30 am our time, she told them to pack and book tickets on the next flight back to DC."

"DiMenna said that he took Charlie down to the morgue to see Deena about twenty after ten," CJ stated, wearily rubbing her forehead.  _How much more can Charlie take?  How much more can _any of us _take?_

Bartlet closed his eyes.  "He's terrified for her.  Hell, _I'm_ terrified for her, Ron; she's my daughter.  There's a part of me that's glad she's not involved with him anymore – because of the danger.  The larger part of me wants to kick both their asses six ways till Sunday and tell them to get their act together.  He needs her, and from what you're telling me, she never wanted to leave him.  Where do we go from here?"

"Give Charlie a detail, and when he wants to work, let him.  For now, I would recommend _against _telling him that Zoey's on an airplane home.  In the mindset he's in, he'd probably lose it completely, thinking that there would be no way to keep her safe if she's on U.S. soil.  What we _can _tell him is that if he tries to leave, we will find him and drag him back here.  He has had his sister taken from him in a manner so violent that very few people would be able to deal with it, but he still has family left, and most of the Service would watch over him in their off-duty hours if they weren't allowed to do it officially.  He's our brother now, and we look after our own."


	8. Chapter 8

Desolation, Part VIII 

Author: Sirius

Disclaimer: See Part I

Chapter Summary: Enter Zoey.

Author's note:  When I tried to upload to fanfiction.net, the italics quit halfway through.  Thoughts after the halfway point are denoted by ** until I can figure out how to fix the problem.  Emphasis when speaking is denoted by bold typeface (presuming that shows up.  If not, I'll fix it).

As soon as Toby reappeared, Bartlet informed the staff of Charlie's words as he had headed into the House, noting the varied reactions – Ainsley, Sam, Margaret and Debbie looked like they were about to be physically ill.  Josh, having already heard what happened to Deena, showed no additional reaction, but anyone with sense would want to stay out of his way for a while.  Toby quite obviously wanted to punch someone, and CJ and Donna shared a glance that spoke volumes.  They wanted to track down the murderers and do serious – and permanent – physical damage.  Leo… Leo looked like he'd just been put down in the middle of ground combat in Vietnam and no one bothered to tell him.  He knew there was trouble coming.

Even with the emotions and tension in the air, most of the staff were lost for words.  "Grab a seat, children, and let me know how we're going to get these bastards.  Ron, who has jurisdiction?"

"Technically, sir, jurisdiction belongs to the DCPD."

"But…"

"But we could make a case for Service involvement as this is now a danger to the First Daughter, as well.  Charlie was convinced of the threat to her, and given the content of the letters, there's no way that it could be passed off as coincidental."

"And this means…?"

"If the DC police mess up or something isn't quite… above-board… with their investigative procedures, we are well-within our rights to take control of the case, given the threat that is being presented."

"Good.  Keep an eye on it.  I want them caught, Ron.  I'd prefer to have them taken out and _shot_, but that would be illegal.  CJ, keep the details under wraps tomorrow, and just give them the basics.  If anyone knows more than he or she should, pass that reporter's name to Ron.  And that goes for all of you."  He saw nods, and "Yes, sir" echoed through the room.  Ron paused for a moment, apparently listening to something coming over his earpiece.  There was a soft knock at the door, and an agent entered, file in hand – Peter.  He handed the file to the President, who placed it on the table beside him.  He would grant Charlie some measure of privacy in this mess by reading it when there were fewer people around.  Then, as well, there wouldn't be quite so many witnesses to his reaction – whatever it may be.

Abbey slipped into the room and took a seat next to her husband.  "Charlie?" he asked.

"He forgot to grab the bag that he keeps here for short-notice trips, so no one needs to get anything from his apartment right away.  I had him sedated; he wasn't going to sleep, otherwise.  I want them found, Jed.  He's been through enough.  No one deserves this."  Charlie held as large a place in Abbey's heart as in her husband's, and she wasn't going to just sit back and take this any more than her husband had.

"No, no one does.  Ron, are there…?"

"Two agents stationed themselves outside the room as soon as Mrs. Bartlet left, sir.  On the off-chance that someone can get into the Residence, they wouldn't be able to get to him any easier than they could get to any other member of the First Family."

CJ's gaze examined the agent, and a small smile came unseen to her lips.  _Any _other_ member of the First Family.  Charlie's determined to keep Zoey away from him, but they still treat him as if he's… what?  First Son, First Son-in-Law?  Is that Ron's idea of a hint, or is he saying something else entirely?  He already mentioned that he was a brother to the agents here, but they wouldn't go to these lengths to protect another agent – not obviously so, anyway.  I'll keep an eye on this._

"Good.  That's enough for now, people.  It's been a long day.  Go home, go to bed, and sleep in tomorrow.  _If _you come in, I don't want to see any of you until noon.  Leo, you stay so you can meet Zoey at the airport.  Everybody else… get out of here."

"Yes, sir."

"Good night, Mr. President."

"Thank you, sir."

And the staff headed out, none of them with any intention of sleeping in.

As the room emptied of all save Jed, Abbey, Leo and Ron, Bartlet picked up the thick folder and opened it.  He immediately noticed that these letters were all accompanied by photographs, and he flipped through those first, taking care to keep them in order.  Setting those aside, he scanned through the first few letters – face paling more with each one.  Then, he moved to the more recent pieces – and froze.  He removed a single letter from the file and read it a second time… then a third.

"Ron, this is what they did to Deena.  Word for word – keeping in mind that we _still_ don't know all the details – this is almost exactly what happened to her.  There's a difference, though… this plan lays out a solution to the "problem" of a Service detail.  They weren't originally planning this for Deena… were they, Ron?"

"No, sir.  By the time Charlie received that letter, the third agent had already been added to Zoey's detail.  She announced her plans for the visit to France less than a week after it arrived.  Current theory is that they only decided to go after Deanna when they realized that Zoey was out of reach."

While Jed listened to Ron, Abbey took the letter from her husband's hand, reading it quickly.  Paling, she placed the letter back in the folder, unable to comprehend how someone could have planned to do this to Zoey, or how anyone could have had such hatred as to actually commit these acts on another human being.  Deena's laughing, joyful face danced in her head, and she spoke with a voice that was harder than anyone in the room had ever heard.

"Find them, Ron.  You know what they did to Deena.  They can't be allowed to do the same to anyone else.  Give the DCPD whatever they ask for in terms of this…" she waved her hand at the folder.  "But keep the originals.  They get copies only, just in case someone in the Good Old Boys club decides to _misplace_ a few things, though one can hope enough people remember Marissa Young that it won't be an issue."

Ron nodded, the look on his face the same as the one he'd worn a few years before, when he'd caught a bullet in the hand at Rosslyn, and insisted on seeing to the President's safety before having his injuries looked at.  Bartlet recognized the look, and Leo had seen it a few times since that point.  Leo was the one who spoke next.

"Ron," he said.  "I don't see you guys going to quite this level of trouble when another agent is in danger, though anyone who works in the field can be in the line of fire.  Not that I'm objecting but… why Charlie?"

"Mr. McGarry, there aren't many like Charlie, anymore.  Anyone else his age would quit if they had his hours, but he goes above and beyond.  He's finishing his college degree at the same time… and I have a hunch."

"What kind of hunch, Ron?" This was from the President.

"Sir, if I were a betting man, I would say that Charlie's not done here.  This house is where he found his second family, and when your administration is over, he will leave here with the rest of you.  Something tells me that he'll be back, and when he is… he'll be sitting in _your_ chair, sir, and he'll have earned it every bit as much as you have.  I'd just like to keep him alive until then.  After that, it'll be someone else's job.  If you'll excuse me, sir… I have to get back to work."  At Bartlet's shocked nod, Ron moved toward the door, a determined grin on his face.  He stopped just before he reached the entrance, and turned to face the President again.  "Just so you know, sir," he said, "as soon as I step out of this room, I'm changing Charlie's code name.  He's Phoenix now; he'll rise above this."

Leo said nothing until the door had shut behind Ron.  "Well, I'll be…"

"Yeah," Bartlet answered.  "Yeah.  I can't say I've ever seen that side of Ron."  He paused.  "He's right, you know.  Charlie could do it, and I think that he would want to, but I'm not going to push him – certainly not now, maybe not ever.  There are other things he needs to deal with long before he'll have a chance to sit in that chair.  Grab a cup of coffee, Leo; we're probably gonna be here a while."  He took off his glasses and rubbed tired eyes for a second, then put the glasses back on.  It was time to get back to work.

2:30am Sunday – Day 2

The minute Zoey stepped off the plane, the two members of her detail took up their standard formation, the third having been withdrawn from the detail when the First Daughter had gone overseas.  Gina stood  to one side, Xander to the other, both on full alert.  Expecting to be met only by senior Service members (or possibly Josh or Sam), alarms went off in her head when she saw Leo, himself flanked by two agents.  She didn't miss the suddenly heightened level of tension in her own detail, and she knew from the look on Leo's face that whatever news he had wasn't good.  She ran through a list of possible problems.

**Dad said Mom and my sisters were fine, that he was fine.  He sounded like he believed it, so that probably isn't the issue.  If there were some kind of emergency that meant I had to get to the House ASAP, there'd be a lot more agents than this.  All of the staff were still in the West Wing when I called I think… except Charlie.**  

Leo watched silently as Zoey's eyes raked his form and the two agents standing with him, watched as her face went pale, but he wasn't prepared for what came out of her mouth – and apparently, neither was her detail.  "Leo," she said.  "What's happened to Charlie?"

**How the hell…?**

"Zoey, let's grab your luggage and get back to the Residence, ok?  Your dad wants to talk to you."

"Leo, **what's wrong with Charlie**?"  Leo did a double-take, thinking for a moment that Abigail Bartlet had been speaking to him instead of Zoey.  The Chief of Staff took a deep breath.

"We can't talk about this here, Zoey.  Please, at least wait until we get into the car.  Then, I'll tell you what I can get away with."  The young woman glared at him and stalked off to the baggage claim carousel.

Several moments later, safely seated next to Leo in the backseat of a bulletproof Service SUV, Zoey Bartlet turned the full force of her mother's glare on her father's oldest friend.  "I'd like some answers now, Leo, if you don't mind.  What… Happened… To… **Charlie**?"

TBC…


	9. Chapter 9

Desolation, Part IX 

Author: Sirius

Disclaimer: For rating and disclaimer info, see Part I.

Chapter Summary: Leo and Ron have a little chat, Danny gets into a fight, and… oh, did I mention that Charlie finds out that Zoey's back?  

Author's note:  For those of you who are familiar with Bookbag as Zoey's Codename, I offer fair warning.  In this universe, they changed it when she went to France.  As always, reviews are welcome.  

7:30am – Day 2

Jed's eyes rested lovingly on his youngest daughter, who had fallen into an exhausted sleep barely half an hour ago – after four hours of agitated pacing.  She had wanted to see Charlie, but the most Abbey would allow her for now was a peek from the doorway.  Jed had convinced her to sit beside him on the couch while they talked over things.  She had taken a seat, but she had also looked on him with her mother's glare.  He, against the better judgment of his "overprotective father" self, told Zoey everything he knew.  If the trauma in Charlie's life over the past 22 and a half hours hadn't already gained Zoey's understanding and compassion, he would be worried for the young man's continued well-being.  Zoey was… less than pleased… at the arrangements that had been made by Charlie and Ron regarding her safety.  Charlie – for the moment – was exempt.  Unfortunately, Jed was fairly certain that Ron would not be so lucky in the face of his daughter's wrath.

Zoey's reaction did answer one of Jed's questions, though.  Zoey would not have left for France if she'd known that Charlie was still in love with her.  Jed smiled at the thought – she's as gutsy as her mother – before carefully removing himself from the couch and allowing her to stretch its length, only afterwards covering her with the soft blanket that had been resting on the back of that same couch.

Letting his daughter sleep while she could, Jed made his way to his bedroom, knowing that if he didn't at least attempt to get _some_ rest, Abbey would hurt him (or have him sedated, whichever she could manage first).  Leaving his residential office, he noticed Xander standing at the door.

"Charlie?"

"Phoenix is still asleep, sir."

"Good.  Good."

Jed was out cold by the time Leo stopped by half an hour later.  Ron, quietly discussing something at the door to the Residence, looked up and nodded to Leo, who responded in kind.  Neither had any illusions that the other had slept last night.  

"Ron, where are they?"

"Eagle is asleep.  Globetrotter crashed on the couch in her father's office – after several hours of pacing and a rant or three.  It looked as though Phoenix was waking up about fifteen minutes ago, but he turned over and went back to sleep.  CJ slept on her couch."

"The rest of the staff?"

"Donna's car is still in the lot – I think she drove Josh home.  The rest went home by themselves.  I saw Mr. Concannon stalking through the halls earlier, muttering something.  I believe the topic of his diatribe had to do with tossing Mr. Albrecht out of an airplane at 35,000 feet.  He most likely saw the briefing last night and caught a late flight back to try and save the Post's reputation."

"I was wondering how well Albrecht's bent to sensationalism would go over with his editor.  That means that we won't have to deal with him in the next briefing, then?"

"No, sir.  It looks like Concannon placed a call to his editor and had Albrecht removed; I didn't hear much."

Leo's raised eyebrow clearly conveyed his skepticism, but Ron refused to elaborate on what he had – or had not – heard.

The Senior Staff (and everyone else who had been at the meeting the night before) had all stumbled into Leo's office by 10:30am, looking slightly better than they had the night before.  Leo knew that none of them had slept any later than usual, but that they had followed the President's orders as much as they could.  

When they had all gravitated to Leo's office, he told them to take a seat.  "You're all violating an Executive Order, you know."

"Not so much, no" Josh said.  "He said he didn't want to see us before noon; he's not here right now, therefore, he isn't seeing us.  We're good."

"And if we go down, we'll take you with us, Leo."

"Thank you so much, Toby."

"No problem."

"CJ, are you good to go for the noon briefing?"

"I'm as ready as I can be, considering I want to shove my notes down Albrecht's throat.  Anybody have a problem with that?"

"Not me," Sam said, "but Albrecht might."

"Presuming he were here, that is."

"He's not here, Leo?"

"Danny Concannon apparently cut his vacation short and hopped a late flight.  It seems he gave his editor a phone call and had Albrecht taken off.  He should be at the briefing this morning."

"Good.  Danny may occasionally be annoying, but he rarely tempts me to do permanent physical harm.  I can handle him."

The staff rose to their feet when they heard shouting in the hallway, and the loud thump against the door a split second later drove them all to the entryway to find out what was going on.  To say that the scene they found was unexpected would be an understatement.  Albrecht was on the floor, nose and chin bleeding, an enraged Danny Concannon standing over him and being prevented from doing further harm only by the arms of two Service agents.

"What the _hell_ is going on here?"

Danny – relaxed, _easy**-**going_ Danny – snapped to attention with near-military precision at the bark in the President's voice.  Ron noted that the reporter's hands were still clenched into fists, but knew that Concannon most likely didn't realize it.

"Mr. Concannon, I would appreciate an answer.  What's going on here?"

"The man's nuts, sir!" Albrecht raved.  Danny made to step forward again, but was stopped for a second time by the agents.

"Albrecht isn't supposed to be here, sir," Danny said.  "My editor ordered him to drop off his Press Corps ID and reassigned him as soon as I stepped off the plane.  Of course, Kendrick might fire him instead, when I tell him what came out of this bastard's mouth – pardon the language, sir.  He wasn't originally supposed to be my stand-in at all, and if I'd known he was going to worm his way in here, I wouldn't have bothered to leave.  Racist jackass.  He kept his ID and he used it to get past Security.  Being more than a little aware of some of the things he says at work, I'd like to know why."

"What _does_he say at work, Mr. Concannon?"

Danny paused, but Bartlet's raised eyebrow, Ron's steady gaze and CJ's demanding one all convinced him to continue.  "Things that I would rather not repeat, sir, but they would make me wary of allowing him anywhere near Charlie or your daughter."

Bartlet looked at the two Service agents by Danny, then nodded at Albrecht.  "Get him to a conference room, clean him up and call Captain DiMenna.  Ron, Danny, let's talk."  The sharp eyes noted the concerned expressions on the faces of his staff, family all.  "Don't worry too much.  I'll fill you in this afternoon."

The ever-present chorus of "Yes, sir" and "Yes, Mr. President" answered his statement as he turned toward the Oval, followed by the always composed Ron Butterfield… and an increasingly nervous Washington Post reporter.  

CJ kept the briefing short, refusing to answer questions and stating only that Deena's murder was currently under investigation by the DCPD and that details could not be released at this time.  "I have one last announcement before we call a full lid today.  I trust that each and every one of you is aware of the ban on bothering members of the First Family?"  She paused.  "That was a question, guys, so I'd appreciate some kind of response."  There were confused nods throughout the room.  "Good, you all remember it.  The President considers Charlie Young to be a very _vital_part of his family, and anyone who tries to talk to him without first speaking to yours truly – and a few friendly Secret Service agents – _will _have their credentials revoked.  This is not an easy time for any of us, and we'd appreciate a showing of common courtesy and respect for Charlie's privacy.  That's all."  Numerous shouts of "CJ! CJ!" followed her out of the room, but the reporters eventually dispersed and went to their desks – except for one.  Danny followed CJ out, silently, offering support the only way he could right now.

Zoey walked quickly and quietly down the hallway to Charlie's room.  Xander and Gina had been spelled by the relief detail, and encouraged to get some rest; without her friends nearby, Zoey was even more apprehensive than she would have been otherwise.  Would she know what to say when she saw him again?  This had to be tearing his apart.  Zoey stopped before Charlie's door, looking quizzically at the two agents stationed there.  She didn't recognize them from before her trip to France, but the relief detail seemed to know them, so she refused to worry – about that, at least.  

"Is he still asleep?"  One of the agents nodded, and she raised her hand to the door, brushing the wood with her fingertips for a moment before pushing it open.  She did not close the door all the way, and the agents – knowing that there would be no danger to her in this room or from this man – stayed outside.  

Zoey slowly approached the sleeping man, sitting gently on the edge of the bed.  _What am I supposed to be feeling right now?_  She couldn't make sense of everything that she'd learned earlier that morning.  _How can I be angry and relieved at the same time?  Angry that Charlie sent me away, angry that he didn't tell me what was going on and allow me my own choice, angry that I was a target to begin with – because I love this man.  What _right_ do they have to tell me that I can't love him?  How _dare _they?!  How can I be so furious… and so relieved?  He pushed me away and kept me out of danger… pushed me into the arms of another, so that I would be safe, and I am _glad_ to be alive, _grateful_ to be breathing, and still furious.  Charlie didn't deserve this.  _Deena_ didn't deserve this.  God, how can I hope to understand what he's going through?  _ Zoey's hand reached toward Charlie's face.

Fingertips brushed his cheek, there one minute and drifting away the next.  Such a gentle touch, it was one that some deep part of Charlie craved, and he unconsciously sought it again.  The seeking was rewarded by the return of the touch, a palm placed softly against the side of his face.  Charlie was convinced it was a dream – a beautiful, impossible dream – until he caught the scent of raspberries.  _Zoey… her shampoo smells like raspberries… her hair has always smelled like raspberries.  She can't be here; it's not safe for her to be here._

Charlie forced his eyes to open and the first face he saw was Zoey's.  Neither noticed Jed and Abbey Bartlet standing in the doorway, silently watching the two.  Once Charlie realized that this wasn't a dream, he rolled away from Zoey and off the bed, landing on his feet with the bed between them.  

"Zoey."

"Charlie."

"You can't be here, Zoey; it's not safe."

"There's nowhere safer than here, Charlie.  There are four agents outside that door right now, and two of them are with me no matter where I go."

"It doesn't matter, Zoey.  I don't want you here."  Charlie turned away from her and ran a hand over his hair, a hand that wouldn't stop trembling.  _Why can't I think of a way to make her leave?_

"You're lying, Charlie.  And I'm not going anywhere."

The strain on Charlie's face was growing markedly more visible.  He wanted nothing more than to bury himself in her arms and shut out the world, but he'd only bring death to her if he did.  _I _have _to get her out of here, even if it means she heads straight back to that French fop. _ His voice was raised in desperation, and the agents outside the door – startled at the shouting – would have interrupted had not both Bartlet and Ron waved them off.

"Zoey, _youaregoingbacktoFrance._  It's the only option left now, and you are getting on the next plane back to Paris even if I have to tie you and put you on it myself, and _damn_your detail.  I'm barely managing to bury Deena as it is; if they kill _you_, my death would be an act of mercy!"

TBC…


	10. Chapter 10

Desolation, Part X 

Author: Sirius

Disclaimer: See Part I for rating and disclaimer info.

Author's Note: Part X picks up right where Part IX left off.  This is shorter than I'd intended, but it just seemed like the right place to end this chapter.  There will be more details on the "How to lose a Frenchman" portion in Part XI.

Chapter Summary:  Zoey – will she stay or will she go?

Zoey stood in shocked silence for a moment, the depth of Charlie's desperation only now becoming clear to her.  Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath.  Then, she slowly moved around the bed until there was nothing between them save empty space.  

"I'm not going, Charlie.  I won't leave you again."

"Jean-Paul won't like that news."  _I can't believe I'm dragging him into this… but if it will get her back to France… well, I'll try anything._

"Jean-Paul doesn't have any say in how I live my life, and hasn't been in any position to comment."

"Really?  Why?"  _If I keep up the chatter, maybe I can divert her from the idea that she wants to stay._

"Because he did something monumentally stupid and I had Gina drop-kick him out the door two weeks ago.  I'll fill you in on the details later.  The fact of the matter is that I'm staying, Charlie, and the only way that you could get me back to France is if you come with me.  Somehow, I'm thinking that might be frowned upon by the general public, and that running away isn't gonna help much."  With every word, she moved just a little closer, and Charlie, trying to keep the distance between them, retreated until his back was against the bedroom wall.  

"Zoey."  His voice near breaking, Charlie slid down the wall until he was sitting on the floor.  "I can't lose you, too.  Don't you understand that?  I can stand seeing you with another guy, but I'm not strong enough to get through your death.  I could _never_ be strong enough for that."

The young woman took the last step needed to close the space between them and knelt on the floor by his side, taking him in her arms and holding him tightly to her as the tears started to stream down Charlie's face.  She rocked him in her embrace, her mouth only an inch from his ear, whispering.  "I'll never leave you again, Charlie.  We can work our way through the danger, but we're stronger together… we're stronger together."

The whispers continued as Charlie's arms went around her and he held on tight, shaking.  One hand went up to her silken hair and he ran his fingers through it.  _She's real.  She's real._  Joy mixed with grief as the two sat together on the floor, Zoey calling Charlie back from the edge of despair.

Jed and Abbey, watching their children, knew that Charlie would heal, now, but it was a long road and this day was only half over.  "Ron," Jed said.  "Call Gina and ask her to meet me in the Oval before Senior Staff.  I want more information on this drop-kicking thing."  For the first time since this trial had begun – only one day ago – the President felt a tiny bit of hope that his son would be ok.

Josh knew that there were things he should be doing, but he couldn't summon the concentration for them.  The look on Charlie's face as he'd sat in that car last night seared Josh's soul.  _Enough of this,_ he thought.  _I have to see how he's doing._  As he left the office, Donna fell into step beside him, seeming to know exactly where he was going.   _How does she do that, anyway?_

As they walked through the halls toward the Residence, they heard the murmured words of the patrolling Service agents.  Josh didn't pay much attention until he caught the phrase "heard that Phoenix was awake."

"Phoenix?  Who's _Phoenix_?"  He hadn't actually meant anyone to hear him, but Donna was too close to miss the question.

"It's Charlie's new codename," she said.  "They changed it last night."

"How do you always know this stuff?"

She shrugged.  "I hear things."  He looked at her with one raised eyebrow as they continued to walk.  When the two reached the main inner doors to the Residence, the agents stationed there motioned them in with a nod, surprising the Deputy Chief of Staff.  He'd been prepared to debate his way in… or at least knock.  

They had been expecting to see two agents outside Charlie's door and Josh was somewhat taken aback by the presence of four agents and the First Daughter calmly standing in the hallway.

"Zoey?"

"Oh, hi, Josh.  I convinced Charlie to step out of his room so that we can grab some food, but he wanted to clean up first.  He should be out in a minute."

"Have you two had a chance to _talk_?"

"Yeah, Donna.  We've… almost… reached an understanding.  He still wants me to go back to France, and I'm still not going anywhere.  Gee, that kinda sounds like my parents.  Should I be frightened?"

"No, I think your parents are an inspiration, actually.  Why does he want you to go back to France – where there are only the two agents of your main detail – rather than stay here, where there are a lot more agents?"

"He thinks that my safety is directly proportional to my distance from him – and now I sound like my father, the economist.  Anyway, he needs me here, and here I stay… whether he likes it or not.  He doesn't have to be the strong one this time.  I think I've almost got him around to my way of thinking, but right now, my focus is on getting him to eat something.  From what I can gather, his last meal was breakfast yesterday."

All three turned toward the door as it opened, revealing Charlie, hair still damp, dressed somewhat more casually than usual in slacks and a sweater.  It wasn't casual enough for Zoey – he still looked like he could be on his way to work – but for now, it would do.  At least he was out of the room.  Josh knew that Charlie had slept – the sedative had seen to that – but he couldn't tell it by the look in the younger man's eyes.  

_He still looks exhausted, but there's something there… what is it?  He doesn't seem quite as… ragged?  Close to the edge? What's changed?_  Josh realized that Charlie wasn't seeing them.  His eyes were focused on Zoey now, and held… what?  Gratitude?  Desperation?  A connection.  Josh watched as Charlie released a deep, tired sigh, and Zoey reached out a hand to him, that silent gesture coaxing him to take the strength that was offered.  _Come on, man, don't push her away_.  

Seconds seemed like hours as they waited for Charlie to make his decision, and Josh felt like he could touch the sky when he saw dark hand reach for light.  Charlie's thumb ran circles over Zoey's palm, a counterpoint to whatever thoughts were going through his head.  Then, the younger man pulled Zoey into his arms and whispered words that no one else could hear, before setting her apart from him and walking by her side down the hallway, his hand once more finding hers.

Donna turned to Josh with a brilliant smile on her face, and said what both were thinking.  "She's staying."

TBC…  And what stupid thing _did_ Jean-Paul do, anyway?  Stay tuned for the next chapter and I'll fill you in.  As always, reviews are welcome.


	11. Chapter 11

Desolation, Part XI 

Author: Sirius

Disclaimer: Rating and disclaimer info in Part I.

Archive: Just ask.

Chapter Summary: Jean-Paul's stupidity.

Author's Note: I will (after I've finished Desolation) be posting a more in-depth version of the Jean-Paul drop-kicking scene in response to the "How to Lose a Frenchman" challenge on the Color_Blind_Love list.  Enjoy and reviews are always welcome.

The kitchen staff had been informed that Charlie was awake and had set out a variety of tempting items.  Charlie went the simple route and made a sandwich; he wasn't particularly hungry.  Zoey kept an eye on the small amount of food on his plate, but said nothing.  It would be easier to get him to eat a snack later than a big meal now.  

The two had already fixed their food and taken seats at the small dining table by the time Josh and Donna entered the kitchen area, having wished to give the younger pair some time to themselves.  

"Alright, so you hear things," Josh was saying to Donna as they came in the door.  "Do you know what's happening with Albrecht?"

"Albrecht?"  Charlie interrupted, a slightly confused look on his face.  "Are we talking about the Senator from North Carolina or Danny Concannon's stand-in from the Post?  I've been out of the loop.  Fill me in, would you?"

Charlie missed the questioning look that Josh cast to Zoey… and the look that she sent back, the one that said _Tell him.  _

"K.  This would be the Albrecht who _was _Danny's stand-in.  Of course, considering that Danny decked him, I'd gather that they weren't the best of friends."

"Whoa, wait a minute.  This is Danny Concannon you're talking about, right?"  Josh nodded.  "What did Albrecht do to piss him off?"

Josh paused, but knowing that Charlie would eventually find out and wanting him to hear it from a friend, took a deep breath and answered.  "He ambushed CJ in yesterday evening's briefing with a question about Deena – for one.  That would have been enough."  Charlie's face was calm, but his fingers started to tap slowly on the table.

"What else?" the younger man asked.  "You said `_for one'_ and that implies that there was _more_ than one thing that he did."

"Yeah, Danny came back from vacation early and had him reassigned.  He was supposed to turn in his Press Corps ID to his editor, but the next time Danny saw him, he'd used it to get back into the West Wing.  He said a few things, but no one other than Danny and Albrecht really know what they were, unless Danny told the President.  The rest of us were talking with Leo and disobeying what was for all intents and purposes an Executive Order, and the only things we heard were shouting and then a loud thump as Albrecht had an unintentional meeting with Leo's office door.  When Donna and I came through the door, I was just asking if she'd heard anything new."

"And if I'd had the chance to respond," she replied, "I would have reminded you that the President will be giving us more information in the Senior Staff, et al briefing."

"And who exactly constitutes `et al' for those of us at this table who haven't the slightest clue what's been going on here for the past – " Charlie looked at his watch – "twenty-eight hours?"

Josh and Donna filled him in on what they could – the inclusion of Donna, Margaret and Ainsley at the meetings, their search for him after they'd learned about his sister, the President's rage and determination that his aide not be made to go through this alone.  Josh almost said "son" instead of "aide" in that last moment, only stopping himself because he didn't know if Charlie could stand to hear that right now.  _It's not a bad thing,_ Josh thought, _but I'll try to go a little easier on the emotional side of things at the moment.  Besides, the President's feelings are his own to reveal, even if everybody can see it regardless._  

It was Donna who revealed Charlie's new codename to him, though not even she knew exactly how he'd gotten it.  Charlie looked somewhat astonished at the faith implied by the name – faith in him, in these people around him.  Zoey rested a hand on his shoulder and continued to watch him as Josh resumed speaking.  He revealed to Charlie that his apartment was being monitored by agents, that Leo was in constant contact with Captain DiMenna, and that there would be no reporters asking for or being granted interviews unless he allowed it, courtesy of the President and CJ.  

In the end, Josh, growing uncomfortable with the topic and the contemplative look on Charlie's face, switched topics.  "So, Zoey, what's been up with you lately?"

"Not much.  Toured France, took pictures, ditched Jean-Paul and had Gina threaten to shoot him…  your typical vacation."

"Wait a minute… back up.  You had Gina threaten to shoot Jean-Paul?"  The look on Josh Lyman's face was priceless – sheer amazement mixed with a hint of manic glee.  

"Actually, that's not _entirely_ accurate."  Zoey looked around the table and saw the expressions of confusion – mixed with a very tiny smile lurking on Charlie's face.  She took pity on them and started to explain.   "A little over two weeks ago, he and I went out to dinner – fancy place.  We'd talked earlier in the day about his liking for public events.  He likes crowds; I haven't been fond of them for a while.  He wanted us to go places where we could be seen, and I was tired of stressing out Gina and Xander with the unnecessary security risks.  I'd agreed to the dinner that night because I thought it would be a chance to talk things out, settle our disagreements.  I was looking forward to going someplace small.  It didn't happen, and the evening got worse from there."

Zoey paused for a second and took a breath, remembering all too clearly what happened next.  She was still furious with the little…  

"Halfway through dinner, I went to the restroom and came back to find Jean-Paul having a nice little _chat_ with one of his buddies.  Said friend was saying that, seeing as I didn't seem to be very happy with Jean-Paul at the moment, dear, dear old Jean-Paul had best _pay_ _up_.  To this, he replied that it didn't matter how angry I was, he could still talk his way into my bed by the end of the week, and then the cash would be all his.  Of course, he didn't know that I was standing right behind him at the time.  I very politely said that it had been a very memorable evening, and that I'd rather not repeat it.  Then, I went back to my flat.  Jean-Paul showed up about an hour later and tried to sweet-talk his way in the door.  Gina wanted to handle it, but I said I'd talked to him.  I went to the door and told him that if he ever came by my apartment, Gina would shoot him.  I'm not sure he believed me until Gina added the final touch."

"What?"  Donna's face revealed feelings of anger and an almost menacing anticipation.

"He pushed past me to try and get inside the flat.  Gina grabbed him by his suit jacket, looked him straight in the eyes… and then, she grinned.  Not a happy grin, exactly.  It was more one of the `Oh, _please_, be stupid enough to try this' kind of grins.  She… showed him out the door, and the last I saw of him, he was trying to maintain whatever dignity he had left as he hobbled down the hallway.  The jackass probably still has bruises."

On the other side of the building, as Gina finished telling her version of events, the President broke out into a laughter so deeply felt that it brought tears to his eyes.  He had no doubt that Jean-Paul had deserved everything he'd gotten.

TBC…


	12. Chapter 12

Desolation, Part XII 

Author: Sirius

Disclaimer: See Part I for ratings and disclaimer info.

Author note: Sorry for the lateness of this post.  I spent most of the weekend recovering from accidentally eating something to which I'm allergic, so I wasn't able to get much done.  I'm not quite sure if this chapter ended up happening the way I want it to, but this part needed to be in here for me to continue with the rest of the story.  This picks up a little while after Part XI left off.  As always, reviews are welcome.

Elsewhere – 1:30 pm

"Where is that idiot?!"  He glanced toward his watch in annoyance.  He had things to do before work tonight and couldn't afford to wait for Albrecht much longer than he already had.  _If you've screwed this up, you won't have long to regret it_.

West Wing – same time

The President was still chuckling as he walked into Senior Staff, causing a few individuals in the group to give him strange looks.  He was about to send someone to bring Zoey and Charlie to the already unorthodox meeting when the two stepped into the room – followed by Josh and Donna a few moments later.  There were still a few people missing, but it was Sunday and this meeting didn't need to be rushed.  Most of the people in the room would have had the day off if not for what had happened to Deena.  Bartlet knew that none of them would stay home now even if he ordered it, so he allowed his staff and friends to do what they did best – try to make sense out of madness.

He looked around the room and conducted a mental head-count.  Leo, check; Margaret, check; Debbie, check.  Charlie and Zoey – _now, there's a sight I'd almost lost hope of ever seeing again_.  The contrast and inherent beauty of the light fingers interlaced with dark caught his attention for a moment, and he nodded at the two with a gentle smile in his eyes before returning to his checklist.  Josh, check; Donna, check – _I wonder if those two are really as selectively blind as they like to pretend._  Toby, check; CJ, check; Sam and Ainsley – check, check.  Ron – Bartlet's eyes glanced to the agent at the door, and his gaze was met with a solemn nod.  _Hmm, that means the only people missing are Abbey and Captain DiMenna_.  _Oh, almost forgot – and Danny._  

Ron, after listening to something coming over his earpiece, walked over to the President and quietly informed him that the Captain had been delayed by an incident at the station, but had arrived and was on his way up.  In the midst of the announcement, Abbey glided into the room and took a position next to her husband.  Danny came in just as Ron moved back to his place near the door.  

"I see we have almost everyone," the President quietly remarked, "and the one that's missing should be here shortly."  The statement was punctuated by a quiet knock and the entrance of Captain DiMenna.  Bartlet directed him to have a seat and spent several seconds looking at the diverse group of people in front of him.  

"Charlie," Bartlet said, "Look around you.  These people, every single one of them – myself included – are here to act as support to you.  You will not go through this alone.  Oh, yes, and as a bit of an addendum to this intro comment… don't ever keep something like this from me again."

Charlie wasn't exactly which "_this_" the President was referring, but there was only one acceptable response.  "Yes, sir."  He was still dazed by the number of changes that had swept through his life in less than 48 hours, and wasn't quite sure which way was up and which down, but Zoey's presence by his side anchored him.  

"Captain," he heard Bartlet say a second later, "what's the situation with Albrecht?"

"I'd probably have the DA breathing down my neck if he knew about it.  Thankfully, since he entered the West Wing without proper clearance, it's technically a Service matter.  The legal ground may still be a little sticky if we don't let him make that phone call – sometime in the next few hours.  As far as anyone out of this loop is concerned, there was a technical problem with the computer system that resulted in a prolonged booking time."

"Should I be hearing this?" Danny asked.  He paused for a moment.  "Never mind, I'm _enjoying_ hearing this… and I think I left my notebook on my desk… darn."

Even Ron cracked a small smile at that comment.  "Ron, Captain," the President continued, "get together and figure out a strategy.  Keep all of the dealings with Albrecht above-board.  We don't want any legal situations coming out of this… but I want to know what he knows… what's in his head, and what – if anything – he has to do with this.  And if he had anything, _anything_ to do with Deena Young's death, you _will _tell me about it."  Bartlet's ice-cold glare promised retribution on those who would dare visit harm upon _his _family.  DiMenna shivered slightly – Bartlet was an honorable man, but definitely not one that he would want to cross.

"Yes, sir," he answered.

"Are there any other leads, Captain?"

"Nothing solid, sir.  There are no witnesses that we've been able to find, but I still have officers checking the local hospitals – and some a bit further out – for patients who came in looking as though they'd been in a fight during the time frame in question.  Most of the hits so far on that score are unlikely to have been involved in this."

"What about the third-watch patrolman that found them?" Charlie asked.  "And the night-shift coroner?  Any word yet on why Deena wasn't printed when Andy was?"

"I'd be able to give you a more solid lead on that right now if I could actually _find_ my night-shift coroner.  The officer in charge of the case was apparently coming down with the flu, Zeiherin told him to go home because he looked like shit, that she'd finish up with the printing.  She'd already finished the prelim by then, and had typed up the initial report, but today, she's nowhere to be found."

"And the likelihood that she's directly involved with this?" Ron asked.

"Is not very high," the Captain answered.  "Hate crimes just make her work harder.  She most definitely would _not_ either commit or obscure the facts on these cases above and beyond anything else.  Her parents were both children in WWII – somehow, each managed to survive.  Her mother was in Birkenau, her father in Auschwitz.  She _would not, ever_ cover up details in a case like this.  There is nothing on this earth that could convince her to do that.  Frankly, that's why I'm worried that she hasn't been in touch."

"Find out what's going on here, Captain, and find out soon."  Again, the only response that could be given to the President was, "Yes, sir."

"Danny, any word from the Post on Albrecht's future?"

"Mr. President, if his _only_ offense had been subbing for me when he wasn't supposed to, my editor could have handled that.  Illegal entry into the West Wing, however… in all probability, sir, he'll be out of a job by the end of the day.  The Post doesn't stand for that."

"Good."

Charlie swallowed hard.  _I can handle this.  As long as they don't talk over details of… I can handle this.  _Zoey noted his face going grey, and tightened her grip on his hand.  

"Dad," she said.  "Charlie and I are gonna go for a walk, if you don't mind?"

Bartlet snapped a quick, knowing look toward Charlie's face, and nodded.  This was information that Charlie needed to know, but he didn't need to be informed in the midst of a group.  Zoey coaxed Charlie off the couch and walked with him out the door of Leo's office, hearing Toby's question just as they stepped over the threshold.  "Hey, what happened to the French guy, anyway?"

Charlie and Zoey quickly made their way to the Residence and Charlie's room, and she sat beside him as he sank to his bed.  _God, this is so hard.  Deena… It's taken her out of my life, but somehow perversely brought Zoey back into it… and now it's grown to involve the disappearance of a Jewish coroner?  Can someone _please_ explain this?  I can't make sense of this.  Need to get out of this room.  _

"I need to get out of here," he said.  

"Well, then," Zoey said.  "Grab your coat and we can take a walk in the Rose Garden."

Charlie stood and slipped his coat on and his hands slid into his pockets out of habit.  On the right-hand side, he felt the paper of the envelope that he'd forgotten in the midst of everything else.  Without thinking, he removed the envelope and, after turning it over in his hands a few times, he slid the contents out.  At first, his brain refused to acknowledge what he was seeing, then the envelope and its message dropped from numbed fingers onto the bed and the sound of unmitigated rage coming from his throat blended with Zoey's blood-chilling scream.

TBC…


	13. Chapter 13

Desolation, Part XIII 

Author: Sirius

Disclaimer: See Part I.

Author's Note:  As always, feedback is welcome.  In addition, keep in mind that this is AU, and that anything involving Charlie's family history in this story is something that I have made up… I've also added a tiny bit about Rosslyn, since I haven't seen those episodes in a while.

Chapter Summary:  What was in that envelope?  Oh, and this chapter – in my estimation – contains somewhat graphic content and **_definitely_** carries a Kleenex warning.  It picks up right where Part XII left off.  The formatting looks like it's being a little weird again.  The flashback sequence will be in **bold print.**

Charlie had gathered her into his arms, but she still saw the pictures in her mind.   She'd known what they'd done to Deena, but that… _tops of shaved heads looking down on a bound girl, bruises on her stomach, bruises on her face.  Hands holding her down as the men…  Other images showing every time she'd been struck, every time she'd been kicked.  Enraged boys displaying as battle wounds the broken bones she'd dealt to them, bragging…she'd lost… she'd lost.  The final set of images… Deena's eyes, wide with terror, pain, hopelessness, as the knife carved into her arm, her stomach.  _

"She was still alive… God, Zoey, she was _still alive_ when they did that."

Gina and Xander had rushed into the room at Zoey's scream, guns drawn, and had heard Charlie's comment.  Of the two agents, Gina saw the pictures first.  Before her orders kicked in, before she even _thought_ to notify Ron, the first words going through her head were _I want those bastards taken out back and _shot.

In Leo's office, Ron's head snapped up and he listened attentively to whatever was coming in over his earpiece.  "Confirm that, Toscano!"  Ron's sharply barked command silenced everyone in the meeting.  Abbey put a hand on her husband's shoulder, sending a silent message.  _Wait.  Let Ron do his job.  Don't rush when everything may be all right… just wait._  

They watched as seconds ticked by… then all started to breathe again as Ron's stance relaxed – ever so slightly.  He was still alert, but it was a lesser state of it, one that would have passed by anyone who hadn't worked with this man for the past few years.  DiMenna didn't notice, but he relaxed – more or less – when the general tension level in the room eased up.  

Near the door, Ron still listened intently, interjecting the occasional half-question, apparently answered before he could finish.  Toby observed with open admiration the level of teamwork that existed between these agents – even though he was only seeing a small part of it.  _Protect and serve, loyalty, dedication, and selfless devotion to duty.  There is no glory in this job, an often thankless task, but in this calling is evidence of deep and abiding honor in and to all who choose to follow it.  It's a life in the shadows.  Can anyone else truly know what these people give up?  Do we even think to show our gratitude when we can?_  Toby remembered Simon Donovan, and the two agents killed at Rosslyn.  

Toby's attention was caught by Ron's next comment.  "Confirm – he was supposed to receive that _prior_ to police contact?  Is that best theory or…?  I see.  It's not likely that there will be much – if anything – left… Yes, follow SOP."  

_What the hell is going on?_ Toby thought.  _The first agent mentioned was Gina, so it has to have something to do with Zoey… or Charlie, since Zoey has been effectively glued to his side since he woke up – all things considered, that could only be a good thing.  So, presuming that the "he" is Charlie, _what_ was he supposed to receive…?_

Ron's voice dropped back to a low murmur that made his words inaudible to the rest of the room, and by this time everyone knew that there was nothing life-threatening going on… but that didn't stop Toby from pacing.  

It didn't stop Josh from running his hands through his hair.

It didn't stop Leo from cursing under his breath, and it didn't stop Margaret from worrying about him.

It didn't stop Sam from resting his head in his hands… or Ainsley from resting a comforting hand on his back.

And the only thing that stopped Jed Bartlet from leaving that room to check on his daughter was his wife's calming hand on his shoulder.

**She'd been born after their dad had left… not that he'd been there much to begin with.  He'd been almost eight then, and started spending his mornings greeting this tiny, squirming, screaming thing that grabbed onto his heart and didn't let go.  Smiling eyes and an angel's laughter.  When she was three, she did her best to give him a makeover with her birthday cake.  He got her a puppy.**  Keep an eye on her, Edison, you old mutt.  You always did.

**He was there when she was in her first school play – Mom was there opening night, but had to work the rest.  **

**He looked at the things his mother missed, held his sister when she cried because Mama had to work… and he was angry.  **Worthless jackass.  It's your own fault you've missed all this and I hope you realize it one day**.****  She shouldn't have to cry, and their mother shouldn't have to work so hard… and he was angry, and couldn't yell at the man who'd betrayed them all.**

**When he shouted at her, he realized that he needed to do something, and went to his mother's boss.  "I need help," he said.  "I don't like who I am anymore; I don't **know **who I am anymore."  And the Captain taught him, as much as he could – how to find that calm place deep inside, how to focus… and how to defend himself.  These lessons would serve him well… until Rosslyn.**

**He grew, excelled, kissed his mother goodbye and went off to college, even though he purposely stayed close… just in case they needed him for anything.  And then one night, Tony came to his dorm… and he went and held his crying sister.  One world ended and another began.  He'd been there for everything before… for her, but he'd always had his mother there, in the background, easy to reach… just in case.  Now, he was all there was for her.**

**He found a job, a family, a love that he had never imagined… a father… all because he had to be there for** her.  **And now, she was gone… gone… in blood, and violence, and hatred…**

And the only thing calming Charlie's shattered soul was the smell of sun-kissed raspberries.

 __

TBC…


	14. Chapter 14

Desolation, Part XIV 

Author: Sirius

Disclaimer: See Part I

Author note: As always, feedback is good.  Again, formatting is being weird, so anything that would normally be in italics (thoughts, flashbacks, etc.) will be in , and any additional emphasis will be in ** and/or bold print, depending on the vagaries of the program… erg.

Downtown – 2pm  

MacAvoy saw him come in and had to say something. "Hey, Genesee, I didn't think you were on until eight."

"I'm not; I was passing by and thought I'd see if Masters called in again."

"Yeah, last time I saw him he still looked like hell.  That double homicide night before last really threw him."

"So I gathered.  I've been a little out of the loop, not watching the news much lately.  Anybody find out who those kids are?"

"Yeah.  According to the news and Captain DiMenna, the girl is Deanna Young.  Her brother Charlie is President Bartlet's aide.  The boy was her Prom date."

"Hell of a way to end a date."

"Wasn't it just?  Hey, Genesee?"

"Yeah, man?"

"Just so you know, since you had yesterday off, Cap's got a bee up his butt about this.  The kid's mother, Marissa Young, was his partner back when he was a lowly homicide detective like the rest of us.  She was killed in the line almost… five years ago, I think – armor-piercing rounds – and he is unbelievably pissed off that anyone would go after her kids."

"Young's mother was a cop?  I thought I'd heard that somewhere before… a couple years back… when someone shot at the President, maybe."

"Yeah, it was mentioned then.  Anyway, like I said, Masters is still out, and if you're not due in for six hours anyway, get the hell out of here before the Captain comes back and decides to make you work.  See you later, Genesee."

"Yeah, see you buddy."  As Genesee left the station, he smiled a little bit and wondered what Charlie thought of the artwork he'd sent.

Residence – 3pm

_Bartlet had dismissed his staff and told them to go get some rest – of course, he knew that most of them would _**rest**_ by working until they dropped, whether in the West Wing or at home.  Toby had ignored the command to leave, heading – as Bartlet had – straight to Charlie's room.  _

They had reached the room to find Charlie standing in its center, still in his coat, a shocked Zoey held in his arms.  The President only had to look at the photos being carefully gathered and tagged by a Service investigative team to realize what had prompted the reaction.  Toby, getting a closer look at the photos than he had really wanted, had swallowed hard and turned away, meeting the sympathetic gaze of one of Charlie's temporary agents – William?  Obviously, he hadn't been the only one to have that kind of reaction.

_Charlie was almost* _too*_ still where he was, and Ron had started to wonder if he might be retreating into himself, needing time to heal away from all this, away from this house.  Then, he had seen the slowly building rage in the younger man's eyes and realized.  He had walked up to him and put a hand on his shoulder, whispering a suggestion into his ear.  Charlie nodded…_

And now, after all the evidence had been collected and the room sorted, the younger man faced the AIC across an exercise mat… and both bowed.  Bartlet watched the exercise in silence, having never seen this side of his aide.  Then again, he never recalled _asking_ Charlie if he'd studied martial arts.

He had one arm draped over Zoey's shoulders as they watched.  Abbey wasn't there, having been convinced to use her not-inconsiderable intimidation skills to _persuade_ the Senior Staff to go home – it _was_ Sunday after all, there really wasn't much to do, and even God took a day off.

Josh, however, managed to find his way down to the gym, and observed the match with a mixture of awe and understanding.  "It's a coping mechanism," he said, jumping back a bit as Ron skidded on the mat before recovering from Charlie's throw.  "This is a pressure valve, lets him release everything in a controlled setting.  If he's as good as Ron has implied, Ron's probably one of the few people he can do this with and not run much risk of doing serious damage.  And it's a hell of a lot better than putting a fist through a wall… or a window."  The President simply nodded… and Zoey kept watch.

In the end, Charlie was the one giving the mat the traditional three taps, signaling an end to the match.  Ron released Charlie from the hold and climbed to his feet.  Charlie stayed where he was for a moment longer, back flat against the mat, slowing his breathing as sweat trickled down his face and a measure of control seeped back into his mind.  He could find the quiet place again.  When his breathing had returned to normal, he opened his eyes… and took the hand that Ron out to help him to his feet.

It was a showered, calmer Charlie who, half an hour later, stood resolutely in front of the President's Chief of Security and demanded to see the letter that had come with the pictures.  In the end, it was only Charlie's absolute refusal to give in on the issue that convinced Ron to give him a copy of the letter, not even Zoey Bartlet being the wiser for it, as Josh had succeeded in temporarily distracting her with something and she was currently in the West Wing.  Charlie, on taking the copy from Ron's hand, folded it in half horizontally, then vertically, and carried it to the Resident's library.

_This is as good a place as any_ he thought, taking a seat on the floor, his back against one of the couches.  Taking a deep breath, he began to read.

TBC… 


	15. Chapter 15

Desolation, Part XV 

Author: Sirius

Disclaimer: See part I

Author's Note: I had to keep this part short, because for the largest portion of it, I had the dubious honor of getting into the villain's head, and putting down on paper what that person wrote in the story made me physically ill, even when I edited the worst of the words.  I'm sure everyone can guess what those words are supposed to be.  I had to pause before starting into the next part of the story, though I'll probably still be starting it sometime tonight.  I have to get out of the villain's head, first… I cannot understand racism, and hope never to understand it.  Such hatred as that will never make sense, and pity humanity if it ever does.  The chapter rating on this particular portion should probably be R for wording, theme, and content.  It's not easy to stomach.

Chapter summary: The Letter

Dear Charlie,

I hope this letter finds you well and enjoying your position of influence.  What must it be like to have the ear of the most powerful man in the Free World?  What was it like to have his daughter in your bed… or were you in hers?

She's a vibrant young woman, Zoey Bartlet – much like your little hellcat of a sister.  I so love women with spirit… such a challenge.  How did it feel to render Bartlet's daughter unsuitable for any Decent man?  I wonder if you could fully appreciate the experience.  The pity of the matter is that she showed such potential before she met you – innocence and fire.  What a joy she would have been to tame!

Bartlet probably thinks that he has saved his beloved child from judgment by sending her to France, but it truly doesn't matter where she is.  I – we – will get to her eventually.  You see, she must pass through the fire and be purified from your corrupting touch.  Her perfect skin can never be allowed to know the feel of your hands again, and I must erase all memory of your touch.  The logic escapes me… what possible reason could such an intelligent woman have to tolerate a n__'s caress?  I'm sure that I'll have the chance to convince her of the error of her ways soon enough.

I saw your sister the other day, Charlie.  She's a cute little b___, for all she'll never be worth as much as my grandfather's most idiot hunting dog.  I wanted to know her better, though… to see what she had in common with her bastard n____ brother.  Turns out she's every bit as stupid as you, and refuses… or should that be refused… to take a hint.  What is it about your family that makes you all choose the harder route?  It would have been so much easier if she hadn't fought, but victory was oh, so sweet, not that there was ever really a contest.

Think about this, Charlie, the next time your fingers grace Zoey Bartlet's perfect white skin, the next time you dare to rise above your place.  Your sister screamed.  By the time I was done using her like that b____ was meant to be used, like it's my RIGHT to use, she begged me to stop.  I didn't, of course.  No n____ b____ can tell me what to do.  Of course, no n____'s b___ can tell me what to do, either.  Poor, poor traitorous Zoey.  What a pity she's out of luck.  She betrayed her people… no better than one of you, now, and she'll suffer the same.  Your sister's already known me.  Bartlet gets the next chance to be purified, and you, you I save for last.  And any Decent man will tell you that the only true way to purify a N____ is to put them through the fires of Hell.  You'll know who I am soon enough.  In the meantime, enjoy the pictures, boy.  They're not as good as the real thing, but I'm sure you can do something with them.

There was no signature or name of any kind at the end of the letter.  Charlie would have been surprised if there was.  He read the letter again, struggling to keep from throwing up.  He stood, went to the door, and motioned William over.  "Could you let Ron know I'd like to talk to him, please?" 


	16. Chapter 16

Desolation, Part XVI 

Author: Sirius

Disclaimer:  See Part I for disclaimer and ratings information.

Author's Note:  This is the conclusion to "Desolation," but the saga will continue in "Retribution," the second story in the newly named "Tempered by Fire" Series.  As always, reviews welcome.

Chapter Summary: Charlie has a plan.

6:30pm

Ron sat with five of his people, in an office so far off the guided tour it may not have even been on the map – if there was one.  "Talk to me, Jackson.  What've you got?"

"Leigh and I completed the scan of the apartment and everything's been put into storage.  There wasn't anything… obviously out of place, but something felt off."

Ron nodded.  Charlie hadn't planned to go back to the apartment anyway, and after their earlier chat, Ron had kicked his plan into high gear.  "Everyone's seen the latest?"

Nods and angry eyes answered his question.  "Kinley and Hatch, you'll be the relief detail for Phoenix, starting in an hour.  Word is that he's planning to visit his mother's grave tonight.  You'll switch off with McKittrick and Guerin at 6am tomorrow; they've already been informed.  I'll have a standard shift rotation posted by then."  The two agents nodded.  "Phoenix is being tight-lipped about this, but I think he has a plan, and it's almost guaranteed to give us all a giant headache, and make things a little livelier around here.  Leigh, I want to see Carter, Ekhart and Jensen two seconds after you step out that door.  Let's put those psych degrees and profiling skills to good use and catch this sorry son of a bitch.  Get a move on, people."

"Yes, sir."

"Damn straight."

"Get Carter, Jensen and Ekhart on the phone.  Butterfield wants them to haul ass to the Cottage."

Ron smiled – a small, dark, dangerous smile – as he heard his people embrace this fight to protect one of their own.  _The bastard will never know what hit him.  Five minutes, God.  Just give me five minutes alone with him._

"Ron."  The softly-spoken word drew his attention left, to the surprisingly tiny form of Cassandra Reinholdt.  Looking at her, no one would believe that she'd been a Marine – all 5'4" of her.  The truth of the matter was that she was a more effective agent than she might otherwise have been able to be because everyone underestimated her.  The short, blond, pixie-style hair and blue eyes didn't hurt the fragile image either.  Despite his ability to give everyone a fair shot, Ron had been shocked speechless the first time he'd seen this woman "school" one of the younger agents.  He hadn't even had the chance to look over her personnel file at the time, so the first fact he'd known about Cassie Reinholdt was that she could kick ass like nobody's business.

He smiled a bit – different than the last.  This was a gentler, more sympathetic smile that softened the harsher angles of his face.  "What can I do for you, Cassandra?"

As she spoke, Ron _felt_ a grin stretching across his face.  This was an ingenious addition to his plan.  _This could almost be fun._  

Dinner had been relatively quiet, with only the smallest discussion of Deena.  Bartlet had asked whether Charlie wanted any help with the funeral arrangements, assuring him that all he had to do was say what he wanted and it would be taken care of.  Charlie shook his head.  "I took care of everything on Saturday afternoon – well, except for the date.  I was kinda in a daze at the time, but it's done."

"Let me know when and where."  Charlie nodded, but didn't feel like saying much.  He needed to do something about the thoughts running through his head, needed to switch the focus.  _I am not a victim, damnit.  I _refuse _to be a victim._

They finished eating and Charlie watched the stewards begin to clear the dishes before he turned to Zoey.  "How would you feel about taking that walk we missed out on earlier?"

She smiled.  They gained silent permission from her father, and Charlie stood while Zoey pushed back her chair, offering her a hand up.  She took it, rising gracefully, and slipped her arm through his as they retrieved their coats.  Stepping out into the Rose Garden, they were greeted by the ever-present agent at the door, and with keen eyes noticed several others scattered discreetly about the grounds.  

There was no snow, yet, but a definite chill permeated the air, and Zoey moved closer to Charlie, slipping her arm from his to slide it around his back.  In his eyes, she saw a lessening of fear.  "Charlie?  Talk to me."

"What do you want to know?"

"What are you thinking?"

"That it's not safe for you to be here."  He held a hand up before she could utter her protests.   "But I won't make you leave.  I… I need to know, though… why are you staying?  Why are you taking this risk?"

"Charlie, I'm staying for the same reason that you wanted me to leave – I love you too much to do anything else.  You were afraid that I wouldn't, weren't you?"  His nod was her only answer.  

"Charles Michael Young." She stopped and turned to face him as she continued, "Never, _never _think that I don't love you, do you understand me?  I never stopped loving you, even when I was dating Jean-Paul.  I went out with him because he was available and I needed to stop thinking about _you, _you dolt. Yes, I'm pissed that you manipulated me into going away instead of giving me a choice in the matter, but I can understand it.  I _will_ eventually make you pay for that, but now isn't the right time."  He smiled a bit at the prospect of Zoey's revenge, then leaned forward until his mouth was bare centimeters from her ear.  

"I love you, Zoey Bartlet," he whispered, gracing her cheek with a soft kiss.  Her mouth was next, and when he stepped back, there were tears in her eyes _and _his.  He held her for a few more moments, resting his cheek on her hair, before turning back toward the house and offering her his arm again.  It was time to go inside.  "I was going to go visit my mom tonight," he said.  "Come with me?"

"Wouldn't miss it," she said.  She saw the determined look in his eyes, and could almost hear the thoughts going through his mind.  "What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking that I want to take my life back.  Want to help?"

"Absolutely.  We'll visit your mom, and then we'll plan?"

"Yeah."  

They never noticed the gleam in the nearest agent's eyes, and never heard his whispered comment to Ron, on the other end of the communications set-up.  "Heads up.  Globetrotter is going with Phoenix to the cemetery, and he just brought her on board with the mystery plan that's running through his head."  

Visiting hours to the public had ended at the cemetery, but Gina had spoken with the groundskeeper and made arrangements for Charlie and Zoey to stop by after hours.  At least this way, she wouldn't have to be any more paranoid than usual about the two of them going out together – and Charlie was certainly more understanding of security concerns than Jean-Paul had ever been.  There were four agents with the couple tonight, all of whom scanned the cemetery as a matter of procedure.  No one was taking any risks, but they did their checks without disturbing the two.

Charlie led Zoey down the walking path until he got to the row he wanted, and they made their way to his mother's resting place.  Next to her headstone was space to set another, not yet there.  Charlie didn't say anything right away, but stood there looking at the grave.  Zoey had stayed a few steps distant to give him time alone with his mother, but he looked toward her and drew her to stand in front of him.  "Mom," he said, "this is Zoey."

Gina kept an eye on the surrounding area, but couldn't stop smiling, even though she wasn't standing close enough to hear what was being said.  The sight alone was enough to warm the heart.  Soon enough, the couple turned to head back to the bulletproof Service SUV.  

They were back in the Residence by nine, and walked together to Charlie's room.  All evidence of the letter and photographs had been removed, and Charlie, a determined fire in his eyes, went to the desk in the room and pulled a notebook from the top drawer.  Zoey looked around at the room, and the two suitcases of items that had been brought here from the apartment when the rest had been placed in storage.  

She looked over him; he had taken a seat at the desk and was writing, busily writing, a look of complete concentration on his face.  She thought to leave quietly, not wanting to disturb him.  Somehow, he knew.  "Stay," he said.  "Please."  She nodded, even though he wasn't looking in her direction, and went over to see what thoughts he was putting on the paper.  Reading as he wrote, she had fight back tears at the pure emotion in his words.  Not being able to speak the words in her heart, she leaned down to press a soft kiss to his hair.

Day 3 – Monday – 9am

CJ looked down at her briefing notes for a second, quelling last minute doubts.  She hadn't been expecting to find Charlie in her office this morning, hadn't been expecting to hear him detail a plan of action for reclaiming his life, and certainly hadn't been expecting said plan to involve her Pressroom.  The only thing more surprising was hearing that he had already discussed this with the President, Leo and Ron, all of whom approved.  _Someone here has completely lost his mind, and he's taken President Bartlet, the Chief of Staff, and the Chief of Security with him.  _Only the words she'd read this morning convinced her that this was the right thing to do.

She looked over the faces making up the White House Press Corps and smiled.  Danny, seeing the smile, immediately thought _What are they up to now?_  He double-checked his tape recorder, making sure that it was working well and the batteries were charged.  Then, he verified that there was plenty of ink left in his pens.  Whatever was being said today, this was _not_ going to be your run-of-the-mill briefing.  

"All right, people, it's time to get to work.  I've got a statement and then I'll take questions."  CJ started in on the general briefing, covering bills currently under consideration on the Hill and general First Family plans for the next few days, now that Zoey was back.  At the end of the statement, she opened the floor for questions, and the cacophony of calls almost made her take a step back.

"Rick."

"CJ, is there any word on the investigation into Deanna Young's murder?"

"Nothing that I can tell you right now, Rick.  You know that any official word on ongoing cases has to come from the department spokesman.  Meghan."

"Have the funeral arrangements been made, CJ, and has Charlie consented to talk to anyone?"

CJ spared a second to look to the door, seeing Charlie standing there, Zoey by his side.  The First Couple was directly behind them.  "CJ," Charlie spoke up, as planned.  "I'll talk to them now, if you don't mind."

The mild look of shock on her face was enough to convince everyone that she had known nothing about this, but the glance she had previously sent toward the door gave Danny his doubts.  To the rest of the Press Corps, it looked as though she spent a split second debating whether she should really let Charlie have free rein with her reporters… and then she nodded.

Charlie headed toward the stage at the front, but did not stand behind the podium.  He stood off to the side, so that the Press Corps could see all of him.  They could see no notes, and there was nothing on the teleprompter.  This was a shot straight from the heart… pure Charlie.

"As I'm sure you've already heard, very early Saturday morning, my sister was taken from this life.  It was not an accident, it was not a robbery gone wrong, and it had absolutely _nothing_ to do with gangs… and everything to do with hate.  I'm sure that all of you remember the assassination attempt at Rosslyn…" Every reporter nodded, and none spoke.  They wouldn't interrupt this, since it was likely to be the only thing they would hear from Charlie for a while.  

Charlie continued, speaking the same words that he had written the night before, noticing as he spoke that his friends had gathered at the Pressroom door, standing to either side of Zoey and the First Couple.  "Those events were prompted by the fact that I loved Zoey Bartlet.  I did then… I do now.  Nothing will change that, and apparently someone still takes offense.  Someone, still wandering free in the District of Columbia, was so offended that I would dare step above my station in life, that I would _dare_ to love a beautiful, vibrant woman, that I would _dare_ to find the other half of my soul and that Fate had the temerity to make her skin a different color than mine… that they stalked my little sister.  They tortured her – a sixteen-year old girl.  Then they took Deena and her Prom date – a brilliant young man whose only crime was choosing the wrong night to take my sister out – and they killed both of them, two kids who'd barely had a chance to realize what life was."

Charlie paused for a second, and Zoey walked up to stand beside him, placing a hand in his to visually make her position clear – just in case any member of the Press Corps had any doubts.  Danny smiled as Charlie continued.

"These same _men_," he said, "decided to leave me a message, making it clear that – once again – they objected to me loving this woman.  Making it clear that they want me _dead_ because I love this woman.  They stole my sister from me, and they've sworn to destroy my life."  He paused.  

"I can't bring Deanna back; I wish to God I could, but the only option they've left me is burying her.  I won't see her graduate from high school; she'll never go to college.  I won't give her away at her wedding, and because of those men, she will never be a mother.  They haven't only stolen the life that she's had, but everything that might have been.  And I say they will not steal anything else.  What courage it must have taken to terrify a sixteen-year-old girl.  What _men_ they are.  I call you cowards, and I say that I'm taking my life back.  If you want a fight with me, then come talk to _me._  Don't steal around in the night, hiding your _patriotic acts_ from the rest of the world."  As he came to the conclusion of his statement, he noticed that the First Couple had made there way up to the stage at some point and now stood directly behind the younger pair.  Abbey's hand lay comfortingly on Zoey's shoulder, and Charlie was supported in the same manner by his father.

"If you want a fight, then by God, _bring it on._"

Finis


End file.
